The Cruel Ironies of Time
by ILoanADogma
Summary: Hermione accidently broke her time turner, and sent herself back into 1869, where she meets none other than a 16 year old Albus Dumbledore. HGAD. Trust me, this isn't your average 'time turner' plot line.
1. Chapter 1

Yes, Sabeth Lemondrop has graciously appointed me the task of continuing this incredible story. Thanks to her for giving it to me, and thanks to you, the reader, for taking time to read it. ;-)  
  
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Hermione Granger was very proud of herself indeed.  
  
No one took on workloads that were nearly as massive or challenging as she did, and she knew it. Not only that, but her marks were higher than nearly any in the school. Yes, even though she was running herself ragged, she often found it worth it just so that she could hold her chin up high in the hallways, proud of all that she managed to accomplish on a daily basis.  
  
One particularly cold Monday on the 5th of January, Hermione had just completed a rather difficult transfiguration class. She had been the only one out of both the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw 6th years to transfigure her iguana into a fully mountable winged horse.  
  
Professor McGonagall had whispered a warm congratulations to her as she packed her bag and left the classroom. Feeling quite overconfident, she absent-mindedly reached into her shirt collar to pull out her time turner, so that she could take her Arithmancy class. She found that it had snagged on the inside of her buttoned blouse and, when she tugged on it rather roughly, the hourglass flew from its hiding place. It spun several times in midair and broke from its golden chain link.  
Just barely before it hit the ground, Hermione reached out and grabbed it tightly, breaking in it two with her fist. At that split second, she felt a backwards rush as she sped through the vaguely familiar time turner portal. She had never been in it for that long, seeing as she was normally only going back in time by one hour.  
  
The golden sand flew about her, getting in her eyes and mouth. Just when she thought she would get sick from the speedy joy ride she landed, hard, in the hallways of Hogwarts.  
Hermione began to compose herself as she observed her surroundings. The hallways looked almost exactly the same, save the sparkling new handle which now graced the transfiguration classroom's door (Peeves had broken it a few days earlier). If that were true, she had to wonder how far back she had actually gone.  
  
She began to wander the halls aimlessly, searching for any means of a clue. Just then, a girl wearing a rather long, dull black dress under unfamiliar Hogwarts robes passed by her. She gave Hermione a very strange look indeed. Hermione gasped; she hadn't gone back by only a few days or weeks, she went back by years. And judging by the looks of that girl's dress, she'd have to estimate at least 100 years. Her heart raced in her chest; this could not be happening. Who could she turn to? Where could she find help?  
  
The Headmaster.  
She wasn't sure who it was who held the position of Headmaster, but she knew that whoever it was, they'd be able to help. She practically sprinted up the flights of stairs and to the 7th floor, where Dumbledore's office had always been located. When she arrived, she stared at the gargoyles guarding the entrance. What was the password? There must be an exception for students who are in need of help.  
  
At this thought, the guards leapt aside, granting her entrance. Impressed by the protection spell that had been cast upon them, Hermione trotted onto the moving staircase. Soon, (too soon, for Hermione's liking) she found herself face to face with the heavy wooden doors that led to the headmaster's chambers. Taking a deep breath, she pushed them outward, only to reveal a dull and dusty study.  
  
She stood, frozen by uncertainty, as she forced her throat to open in order to create any kind of noise that would attract attention.  
  
"Hello?" she croaked.  
  
A distant crash was heard. Hermione's nerves were practically shot, as a short, squat man with rather large spectacles came scurrying from an unseen part of the room. He stared at her for a few seconds, seemingly unable to remove his gaze from her exposed knees and lowly buttoned blouse. Suddenly, Hermione had found her voice.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry, Professor, allow me to introduce myself; my name is Hermione Granger."  
  
"Ah," replied the twitchy old man. "I beg your pardon, ma'am, but what exactly is your business, here, in my office?"  
  
"Yes, well um, my business.well, you see sir, I seem to have had a small amount of trouble with my time turner." as she said this, she reached out her hand, which held the remaining shards of glass from the turner. The Headmaster stared down at it with wide eyes, and a shocked expression on his face.  
  
"A time turner! Well, those are quite rare, how on earth did a girl your age obtain one?"  
  
Hermione was briefly taken aback by this statement. Time turners, in her time, were quite common. Many witches and wizards owned them and used them on a daily basis, so as to complete tasks similar to Hermione's, in their jobs or at their schools. Whatever time period she was in, it had not yet incorporated time turners into their society.  
"Well, you see sir, the time period I come from doesn't find time turners all that uncommon. I use mine to take several classes at once here at Hogwarts."  
  
The Headmaster stared at her. This seemed very mind boggling to him, indeed. What to do with such a girl? Her time turner was beyond repair, but without it, she could never return to whatever period she had come from. Therefore there was only one solution.  
  
"What time period is it, exactly, that you came from, Ms. Granger?" he asked, gently.  
  
"The year 2003," she answered, nervously. He took in a quick, sharp breath. 2003?  
  
"I had no idea a time turner, could, could propel someone so far back into the past."  
  
"Why? What year is it?" Hermione asked, somewhat panicked.  
  
"My dear, this is the year 1869!" he replied, almost fearful of her response.  
  
Her eyes seemed to glaze over. One hundred and thirty four years! How in God's name did her time turner fail her so miserably? She had never read of such an occurrence, how could something like this be?  
  
She must have seemed quite distant to the Headmaster, who began fanning her face with his hand. She blinked, incredulously, before remembering where she was.  
  
"Headmaster," she whispered, "will you be able to find a way to get me back to 2003?"  
  
The headmaster stood silently for a few moments, before replying, "I believe, that with the aide of the Ministry of Magic, we will be able to create a time turner powerful enough to right this terrible wrong."  
  
Hermione took a deep breath. There was still a chance. She nodded, slowly, before saying, "thank you."  
  
He nodded as well. And to think, only a few moments ago he was fusing over the filing of his paperwork. During this brief moment of silence, he took the opportunity to observe her attire. The students of 2003 were quite exposed, were they not? Above the knee skirts? Interesting.well, at least they still sported scarves showing off the colors of the houses in which they belonged; and seeing as her scarf is scarlet and gold, I'd have to say she's in-  
  
"Gryffindor is your house, is it not, Ms. Granger?"  
She looked up. You could see tears starting to collect in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back and nodded.  
  
"Well then," he continued, "I see no reason to delay your study any further. You're going to be here for a while, Ms. Granger, so we may as well settle you into Gryffindor tower. And as soon as you feel fit, I will arrange a class schedule for you with the Gryffindors."  
  
The expression on her face seemed to lighten. She was allowed to remain at Hogwarts, and continue classes, nonetheless!  
  
"I shall have the house elves make you a few new dresses and robes.your clothing really isn't appropriate for this time period."he said, trailing off.  
  
Hermione glanced down at herself. She rolled her eyes inwardly before buttoning her blouse up to the top.  
  
"As for the extra classes you were taking with the time turner, I suppose you can make them up on the weekends, if you really want."  
  
"Thank you so much, professor!" she exclaimed, almost ready to hug him.  
  
"Oh, not at all, Ms. Granger," he replied. He glanced down at the pocket watch attached to the outside of his robes, before looking up one more.  
  
"Dinner is about to be served in the Great Hall. If you wish to attend, I shall send a house elf to the girls' Gryffindor dormitory now.I daresay you will need the help to make yourself presentable. What year did you say you were in, now, dear?"  
  
"Sixth," she replied, as she began towards the exit. "One again, thank you so much for all your help, really."  
  
And with a quick wave goodbye, she was off. If her outfit really was all that outrageous, she had better get to the dormitories soon- the bell for class to end would sound any minute!  
Luckily, the entrance to Gryffindor Tower was only a short ways away, around the corner up ahead. However, just as she took a rather sharp turn to it, she was confronted by a great big pair of outrageously blue eyes. Hermione took in a quick, harsh breath, and stumbled back a few feet. The eyes belonged to a boy, probably the same age as Hermione. He had thick, auburn hair that had a pleasant wave to it; and a body which was long and thin, yet muscular. The boy eyed her suspiciously, his gaze stopping at her legs.  
  
Dear God what is it with men and women's legs? Hermione thought, as her face began to blush.  
"Good evening, mademoiselle, my name is Albus Dumbledore," he stated calmly, as he gave a slight bow. "And what might be yours?" 


	2. Chapter 2

"Dumbledore," she mumbled, awestruck.  
  
He really was quite handsome. He had the same kind and caring look in his eyes, which seemed to make him all the more alluring at his age.  
  
Realizing what an awkward silence this must be to him, Hermione ripped her mind back to the present.  
  
"It's Hermione Granger," she blurted out.  
  
He raised an eyebrow, and gained a very curious expression on his face.  
  
"I'm sorry to cut our conversation short, however, if you could do me a tremendous favor and tell me the password," she said as she motioned towards the portrait of the pink lady,  
  
"I'd be much obliged."  
  
Again he raised an eyebrow, as he glanced at her scarf. It was of the Gryffindor colors, and she seemed innocent enough.  
  
"Wattlebird," he stated, as the portrait swung open.  
  
"Thank you so much," Hermione gasped as she took a backwards glance over her shoulder, and scurried off into the girls' dormitories.  
  
The ever so polite "Not at all" which escaped Dumbledore's lips was barely heard. He was left standing alone in the corridor, quite confused, as the end-of-class bell sounded.  
  
Once Hermione reached the dormitories, she heaved a rather large sigh of relief. She had narrowly escaped total humiliation in front of dozens of people, even if that meant sacrificing her dignity to Albus Dumbledore. However, she was still going to have to face the horrifying questioning of several 6th year girls.  
  
Just then, something floating in front of the open iron cast window caught her eye. It appeared to be some sort of parchment. She walked closer to it, and found that it read the following:  
  
Ms. Granger: Guest chambers of the utmost privacy have been arranged for your stay. We don't want students pestering you for answers to their futures, now, do we? They are accessible only by the following spell cast upon this window: alloggiamenti dell'ospite.  
  
Hermione glanced up at the window, before looking back down at the parchment. The Headmaster was going through quite a lot of trouble for her.  
  
With just a few more seconds of practicing her pronouciation, she withdrew her wand.  
  
"Alloggiamenti dell'ospite!" she cried as the window transformed into a stony archway. As she took her first step towards it, shrill giggles were heard near the entrance to the dormitories.  
  
Her heart skipped a beat.  
  
"Dammit!" she screeched as she sprinted through the archway.  
  
The second her body had passed under it, a solid stone wall took its place. Hermione was now concealed inside the secret guest chambers of Gryffindor Tower. Its appearance was relatively simple, almost exactly the same as the regular girls' dormitory, only smaller.  
  
"Hello, madmoiselle!" a small voice squeaked.  
  
Hermione jumped. She whirled around only to come face to face with a house elf, holding three lovely black dresses.  
  
"Jenny is sorry to bother you, madmoiselle! Jenny only wishes to give you these!" the house elf said as she reached up on her tip toes to hand them to Hermione.  
  
"Thank you," she replied, as she held them up. The three were relatively similar. Each had a neckline which was low, yet flattering.  
  
The bodice was tight, but not too tight; and the skirt flowed gracefully to the ground, ending just over her toes. The dresses had sleeves, long ones, a little too long for Hermione's taste. However, the old fashioned Hogwarts robes, when worn over the dress, made this almost irrelevant.  
  
The robes were pretty much the same as Hermione's, save the added back buckle which tightened them a bit more around her waist.  
  
Jenny the house elf waited for her to change, to make sure that she had done it properly. She offered to put Hermione's hair up, and when she refused, the elf simply performed a straightening and cleaning spell to it, which added a smooth, silkly texture and a neat styling.  
  
Hermione spinned and twirled in front of a mirror, admiring herself, before Jenny tugged on the hem of her robes.  
  
"Ms. Granger must be reminded that it is 7:00! Dinner is waiting!"  
  
"Oh! Right, thank you, Jenny," she replied as she moved towards the stone wall where the entrance had been.  
  
"Jenny is supposed to show you the way out, Ms. Granger, it is this way!"  
  
The house elf hopped up and down as she pointed towards a portrait of a vase of flowers.  
  
"Just say the same spell, and it will open up to a passageway. Follow it, and you should come out near the Great Hall."  
  
"OK," Hermione said, feeling a bit nervous. "Alloggiamenti dell'ospite!" The potrait swung open, and just as Jenny had said, a passageway appeared.  
  
"Jenny hopes Miss will enjoy her dinner!" Jenny squeaked as she sccuried away.  
  
Hermione rushed forward. She didn't want to appear at the Great Hall during any conspicuous time, she just wanted to blend in.  
  
She followed the passage through some turns, slopes and curves, and soon found herself looking at the backside of a tapestry which she recognized as decor from the Entrance Hall. Listening to make sure no one was around, she pushed the tapestry aside and slipped out.  
  
It was like revealing herself to the world for the first time. She felt cold and uncertain, as if she knew that every person who saw her would immidieatly judge her, and claim her to be some sort of odd ball or misfit. Her shoulders curved as if they were attempting to hide her head. Her neck tingled as she walked, quickly, to the open doors of the Great Hall. 


	3. Chapter 3

A torrent of hushed whispers came her way as Hermione strode towards the Gryffindor table.  
  
All of the students seemed to have heard the story. Had the headmaster announced it? Or were they just curious as to why she was here? Trying to decide which seat to take, she noticed none other than Dumbledore motion for her to join him. She blushed as she took the place beside him.  
  
"You look quite different since our last encounter," Dumbledore said as he gestured towards her dress and robes.  
  
"I daresay these robes flatter you, and quite a bit more than your previous outfit."  
  
"Thank you," Hermione mumbled as she looked around at the food that was being served.  
  
Large turkey legs, corn, potpies, mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes; it all looked quite good.  
  
"Forgive me," Dumbledore said as he continued to stare at her. "But, where is it that you come from?"  
  
Several of the students around them perked their ears up. All of them were dying for a bit of gossip, Hermione could tell.  
  
" I, well, um," Hermione wasn't sure whether she was allowed to tell them or not.  
  
Instinctively, she glanced up at the staff table. The headmaster, seemingly aware of what was going on, nodded to her. This shocked her slightly, before she took a breath and continued,  
  
"It was a bit of an accident, how I got here, really," she said as she trailed off, wondering how to explain. Dumbledore tilted his head to one side, his eyes prying into hers, begging for more of the story.  
  
"You see, I own a time turner." At this, she pulled the chain that she still had in her possession out of her pocket. All that remained on it was a broken golden link and a small piece of glass attached to it.  
  
"I often use it to take two classes at once here at Hogwarts."  
  
"Here at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked, "You mean, you've always attended,"  
  
"The question you should be asking shouldn't be so much as where I attended school, but when I attended it," Hermione interrupted him; she wanted to be sure he didn't get the details wrong, the last thing she needed was the wrong impression.  
  
Dumbledore continued to stare, his expression once again awe struck.  
  
"I was just about to use my time turner, when it got caught on my shirt, and broke from its chain. I reached out to grab it, but it broke in my fist. The next thing I knew, I was flying backwards in the time turners' portal. When the ride ended, I found myself here, in 1869."  
  
"Backwards," Dumbledore repeated. "So, you're a student from the future, whose time turner backfired, and sent you reeling to us, eh?"  
  
Hermione's face flushed once more. "Be as sarcastic as you like, Mr. Dumbledore, but it's the truth," she spat as she reached for some potpie.  
  
Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Forgive me, I'm sure that it is, indeed, the truth. Besides, where else would you obtain such odd garments?" he teased as he shot her a wry smile.  
  
"Now, honestly, how much of a kick can one person get over a skirt?" she asked as she grabbed her fork and knife.  
  
"How much of a kick?" Dumbledore repeated, questioningly.  
  
"Oh, I mean, how much pleasure," she corrected herself. She really needed to teach herself to stop using such modern terminology.  
  
"Ah. Interesting tongue you speak in, really. So when exactly is it that witches and wizards begin to dress and talk like you?"  
  
Hermione swallowed and cleared her throat. "Ah, that would be the year 2003," she answered, hesitantly. She wasn't sure how he was going to react to that little slice of information.  
  
"One hundred and thirty four years into the future." he mumbled, before taking a bite of corn.  
  
"No guarantee I'll be alive then, now, is there?"  
  
Hermione coughed slightly, as she attempted to suppress a chuckle.  
  
"No, I suppose not." she answered, hoping to God that when she returned to 2003, he'd remember this conversation.  
  
"Well, it's not really as impossible as all that, is it?" he asked, misinterpreting her giggles entirely.  
  
"No, no of course not!" she replied, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.  
  
There was a moment of silence. The students surrounding them were obviously passing her story on to others; soon, her little experience would be common knowledge.  
  
"What is it that you enjoy doing during your free time, Ms. Granger, do you have any hobbies?" Dumbledore asked, still apparently interested in what she had to say.  
  
"Well, I daresay both school and my friends keep me busy enough," she started, "I suppose a lot of my free time is dedicated to my studies. I am in my 6th year after all, N.E.W.T.'s, you know."  
  
"I, as well, am in my 6th year," Dumbledore replied.  
  
Hermione grinned. "We'll have classes together, then!" she exclaimed.  
  
Dumbledore's face lit up. "Well that's right, isn't it? I can't wait to see what you can do. If you're starting tomorrow, we have charms and transfiguration!"  
  
*My two best subjects!* Hermione thought as she squealed with delight. "Excellent, I quite enjoy transfiguration," she said, trying not to sound too excited.  
  
"I do too, it's the subject I succeed in most," he replied.  
  
Hermione grinned inwardly. She could have guessed this, because she was aware of the fact that one day he would become the transfiguration teacher here at Hogwarts.  
  
"Well, what is it that you enjoy doing during your free time?" Hermione asked, she didn't want to make this conversation all about her.  
  
Dumbledore sat thoughtfully for a moment, before responding, "I enjoy knitting."  
  
"Knitting?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Yes, especially during the winter time. I always make myself a nice, thick pair of woolen socks," he said.  
  
Hermione was impressed. No boy in the 21st century would ever admit that their favorite pass time was knitting.  
  
"I suppose you've gotten quite good at it, then," she replied.  
  
Dumbledore shrugged. He reached down and lifted up his pant leg just enough so that the brim of his woolen sock was revealed. It was gray, and relatively neat.  
  
Hermione smiled at him. "It looks good to me!" she exclaimed.  
  
Dumbledore beamed at her. "You know, you're the first girl I've ever met who didn't supply me with the oddest of looks after I informed them of my interest in knitting," he said, as he winked at her. Once again, Hermione smiled.  
  
"And your smile is so very lovely," he added, as he turned back to his food, somewhat sheepish about his comment.  
  
"Thank you," she mumbled, as heat rose in her face.  
  
After dinner, the two began to make their way back to Gryffindor Tower. Anyone observing them would think that they've known each other for years. Their chatting was incessant, and lively.  
  
Suddenly, Hermione noticed a harsh hissing behind her. She turned around to observe three girls, all dressed in gowns considered far more elegant than Hermione's, marching towards them.  
  
The dresses had hems and necklines that were decorated with lace and silk ribbon, and their hair was tied back in various extravagant patterns of buns, braids and twists.  
  
Their necks and wrists graced expensive gem and pearl jewelry. They were Gryffindor 6th years.  
  
When they got close enough, the three shoved by them, elbowing Hermione rather roughly in the stomach. She coughed slightly, but straightened up almost immediately.  
  
Dumbledore, who was shocked at the girl's behavior, ran ahead to confront them.  
  
"It's quite alright, Albus, I'm fine!" she called to him. "It's the principal of the thing, Hermione, I can't allow them to get away with this," he stated as he caught up with the girls.  
  
"Pardon me, Victoria, Emily, Margaret," he said as he nodded his head towards each.  
  
"Yes?" the three replied, with high-pitched mockery in each voice.  
  
"I do believe that as you passed by us you handled my new friend rather roughly." As he said this, he put his arm around Hermione's waist. "And if I'm not mistaken, an apology in order?"  
  
All three looked as if they wanted to spit in Hermione's face. Slowly, one of them coughed out,  
  
"Oh, I do beg your pardon,"  
  
"Yes, I as well."  
  
"And me too," the third added.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, ladies, I bid you good night."  
  
The three gave him the most horrifically evil smiles Hermione had ever seen, as they shuffled away, without so much as a glance towards her. Dumbledore watched them leave with his upper lip curled in disgust. Only when they turned a corner did he cease his death glare, and turn back to Hermione.  
  
"I'm so terribly sorry about them, most of the people here are quite likable, it's the ones with money that you must look out for."  
  
Hermione nodded. "I don't mind, really, they were nothing compared to some of the foul creatures I have to deal with back at home," she replied, in a calming sort of way.  
  
"I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea about most of the people here."  
  
"I understand."  
  
The two stayed silent as they continued walking. Dumbledore's arm still remained on Hermione's waist. She enjoyed feeling the weight of it as she walked. It slipped away only to gently nudge her towards the entrance behind the pink lady's portrait. Slightly disappointed that their walk had come to an end, she turned to him to say goodnight. However, before she could say anything, Dumbledore had taken her hand, and kissed it. Hermione noted that it lasted a bit longer than she would have thought customary.  
  
"Have a pleasant sleep," he mumbled, almost dreamily.  
  
"I will," she replied, "and thank you, for all of your help."  
  
"It was my pleasure," he cooed.  
  
As he backed away, eyes unwavering from Hermione's graceful smile, he bumped into the back of an armchair. He straightened his back almost immediately upon contact, as he turned sharply, and headed towards the boy's dormitories.  
  
Hermione could see his cheeks flushing from the side. She chuckled silently. Who knew Dumbledore had been such a goof ball? She started up the stairs, her mind still drifting through the pleasant conversations she and Dumbledore had shared, until all of it came to a hideous, screeching halt.  
  
She had just realized something. She had to walk through the girl's main dormitory room before getting to her own. Those girls, Victoria, Margaret and Emily. . . they were 6th years, they'd be in there, pestering her. And what about the password? They'd hear her say the spell, and that'd be it for her privacy.  
  
Did the headmaster expect her to always use the tapestry? Or was that simply for exiting? It would have to be, otherwise anyone who knew about it could get into Gryffindor tower. "Dammit," she mumbled, as she took in a deep breath, and opened the door.  
  
The sight that met her eyes wasn't pretty.  
  
"Ahhhhhhhhhh well look who it is," screeched one of the girls, (Hermione thought it was Victoria) "It's Albus's new bitch."  
  
The three girls cackled. Hermione rolled her eyes, as she made her way towards the window.  
  
"Where do you expect to sleep?" one of the girls cried, "There aren't any extra beds!"  
  
"Maybe the headmaster told her to sleep on the floor, like the dog she is," Victoria laughed, as she glared at Hermione, just waiting to get a rise out of her. "Alloggiamenti dell'ospite," Hermione whispered to her wand, as the archway appeared.  
  
The other girls in the room gasped, as they ran forward. Hermione attempted to pass through before they had a chance, but the girl nearest her grabbed her shoulders and shoved her, hard, to the ground.  
  
The girl was quite short and pudgy; and Hermione could've sworn she saw certain similarities between her and Harry's cousin, Dudley. When Hermione shook her head and looked up, she was sure that she would see the girls busily ransacking her room.  
  
However, to her joy, none of them appeared to be able to pass under the archway. Victoria screeched as she pounded on an unseen force which failed to grant her entry. Smiling to herself, Hermione struted forward, as she cleared her throat.  
  
"Now that you've all had your fun, would you mind allowing me to pass into my chambers?"  
  
Victoria scoffed at her. "What makes you think that you'll be able to get in if none of us can?" she spat.  
  
Hermione snorted. "If you don't think I can get through, then why not let me by? Don't you want to see me fail at it?"  
  
Victoria haughtily raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Make an utter fool of yourself, all the more fun for us."  
  
The other girls laughed, as they parted to let Hermione through.  
  
In an attempt to make herself look at confident as possible, Hermione straightened, squared back her shoulders, and strutted towards the archway. Just as she had expected, she walk right under it. She turned around just in time to see the girl's angry faces vanish, and a stone wall taking the archway's place.  
  
"Man, take a chill pill," Hermione mumbled to herself, as she continued to stare at the place where the girls had just stood. She shook herself a little and began to pry herself out of her tight dress. Flattering though it was, she would take her loose, comfy blouse any day.  
  
"I suppose I have 19th centuy sexism to blame for this," she grunted as she finnally managed to remove the bodice.  
  
A nightgown had been placed on a chair next to her night stand, she slipped into it and climbed into bed.  
  
Her brain felt heavy and weighed down. Her body was exhausted, yet her mind was buzzing with the information it had recieved throughout the day.  
  
Will I ever get home?  
  
The thought appeared vividly in the center of her brain. Harry, Ron, the professors, would she ever see them again? Why was it that they weren't traveling back into the past, rescuing her from this place?  
  
Because they don't know when you traveled to.  
  
This voice was getting quite annoying. It's true, most of them would have no idea what time period she was thrown into, except for one man.  
  
Dumbledore.  
  
She wasn't entirely sure how time travel worked, but if she had to guess, she'd say that whoever's history she was changing, those who were still alive in 2003 were recieving memories that were new to them. Memories which they could've sworn they didn't have before. If she wanted them to realize what time period she had been sent back to, she would have to make a profound impact on Dumbledore's memories, because she had about 150 years worth of events that she had to make herself stand out in. Otherwise, it may never occur to him to think back into the far reaches of his brain where he kept his thoughts of his school days.  
  
All that came to her brain after that was a dull buzzing. A profound impact? What kind of impact?  
  
Of course she knew the answer which her brain had been concealing from her, the answer which most anyone could think of, the answer which she desperatly wished she could ignore.  
  
Love.  
  
But was it right to use him in such a way? To make him fall in love with her, in order for his 150 year old self to remember, and come to her, lacking the respect he once had for her?  
  
You don't have to pretend.  
  
There it was, the voice again. She stared at the ceiling, wide eyed. No, perhaps not. But it was ridiculous to be thinking such thoughts, she had only met him a few hours ago. How pathetic and cliche would it be, to believe in love at first sight?  
  
She turned to her side, and curled up tightly in a ball. Her insides were squirming. She needed to get to sleep if she was going to start classes tomorrow. Hermione rolled her eyes at herself.  
  
She was only starting classes to impress him.  
  
Cursing her inner voice, Hermione drifted off into a rough and uneasy sleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

"What the hell is that noise?" Hermione's brain demanded, as she slowly pried her eyes apart.  
  
There was a pounding from the other side of the portrait of the flower vase. Alarmed, she tore the bed sheets off of herself, as she grabbed her wand from her bedside table.  
  
"Alloggiamenti dell'ospite," she said, as enthusiastically as possible.  
  
When the portrait swung open, Jenny the house elf was found, standing there, looking quite embarrassed.  
  
"Jenny is sorry to have to wake you up in such a manner, Jenny is forgetting the house elf's passageway into the Gryffindor guest chambers!"  
  
"Oh, that's alright, Jenny," Hermione yawned as she rubbed her head. Her vision wasn't all that clear quite yet, and she was feeling slightly dizzy from getting up so fast.  
  
"Does Miss need help changing?" Jenny asked, as she peered around Hermione's legs towards the two untouched dresses.  
  
"Oh, no, I'm sure I can manage," she replied as she waved her hand towards the clothes. "What's that you have in your hands?"  
  
"This?" the house elf asked, as she lifted up a piece of parchment, "'tis your class schedule. The headmaster asked me to deliver it to you."  
  
"Right, my schedule, thanks Jenny."  
  
The house elf gave her a small grin as she waved goodbye, and headed back down the passageway. Hermione sighed. She felt exhausted just thinking about the amount of work she had ahead of her, to make herself look presentable for class. . .  
  
One hour later, Hermione slipped out from behind the tapestry in the Entrance Hall. She found that her toils over her appearance that morning had really paid off; her confidence was much higher than it had been the previous night.  
  
Her hair was tied back in a nicely braided bun, and her dress had lace bordering the neckline. She had been anxious all morning to find out whether or not Dumbledore would find her attractive, what with her different dress and hairstyle.  
  
*I'll know the second I look into his eyes. . .* Hermione thought to herself, as she marched towards the Great Hall.  
  
When Dumbledore spotted Hermione entering the room, he practically leapt out of his seat to meet her. His eyes were bright and shining, as he scuttled past the students and tables which, as of now, were simply obstacles in his path towards her. Hermione grinned when he offered her his arm, in order to escort her to a seat at the Gryffindor table.  
  
*You'll go dopey for anyone who gives you this kind of attention, won't you?* Hermione hissed to herself, as she sat down next to him. *Remember, you still haven't decided if it's a good idea to get involved in this way!*  
  
Hermione was just about to answer to her thoughts, when they seemingly evaporated, as she turned just in time to see Dumbledore's dashing smile. Her conscience was growing weaker by the second.  
  
"So," Hermione began, "what have you been working on in charms class?"  
  
"Renforcez, the strengthening charm. It allows the user to become five times as strong as they normally are," Dumbledore replied.  
  
"Yes, I've heard of that one," Hermione paused as she attempted to recall what she had read about it, "the charm can be used on inanimate objects as well, in order to increase their durability."  
  
Dumbledore seemed impressed. "The curriculum remains the same for quite some time, I see."  
  
"Well, actually, we haven't gotten to that spell in our charms class quite yet. I've only read about them in the library. . ." at this, Hermione trailed off, slightly embarrassed. She must seem like such a bookworm, to have read ahead like that.  
  
However, to her relief, Dumbledore replied, "I, too, often find myself studying independently. It allows me to better prepare myself for the upcoming material, and I believe it improves my test scores."  
  
All Hermione could do was stare at him. No one could have said anything sexier to her. He uses his free time to, "better prepare himself for the upcoming material?"  
  
Dumbledore glanced down at his silver pocket watch. "Ah, look at the time! Class will start soon, shall we go?" Standing up, he offered her his arm once again.  
  
"Thank you," she said, as she took it.  
  
When they arrived in the charms classroom, a tall, dark haired man stood at the front of the room to greet them.  
  
He was rather pale, with strongly arched eyebrows and deep, brown eyes.  
  
"Ah, you must be Ms. Granger," he said as she strode towards her. "My name is Professor Grimqui, I hope you're finding your stay here comfortable."  
  
"Yes, indeed I am, thank you, professor," she said nervously, as she gave him a slight bow.  
  
He smiled warmly to her as he motioned towards the seats. More students were beginning to filter in behind them, and many of them whispered and pointed towards Hermione as they walked by. She heard a Hufflepuff boy remark,  
  
"I wonder if she's halfway decent. . ."  
  
"Alright, students, quiet down now," Professor Grimqui said as he settled himself into a position in the center of the room.  
  
"As you all know, we have been working on the strengthening spell, renforcez. During this class period, I am going to allow you to pick a partner, in order to try performing the spell on him or her. Now remember, this spell is guaranteed to be seen on the practical section of your charms N.E.W.T, so make sure to practice it well."  
  
Hermione gulped. Her N.E.W.T.'s, was she going to have to take them here? What if she hadn't studied the same material as Dumbledore and the others? Wouldn't the ministry be forced to make an exception, if that were the case? Create some sort of assessment that was appropriate for her? She had little time to ponder this, however; Dumbledore had already started to make his way towards the open area of the classroom. Alarmed, Hermione quickly stood up to follow him.  
  
"Alright, do you want to go first?" Dumbledore asked, as he puffed out his chest. He seemed slightly fearful, as if she were about to hit him with a stunning spell.  
  
"O.K.," Hermione mumbled as she took in a deep breath. She had performed the spell before, and quite well, she might add. He really shouldn't be so worried.  
  
"Renforcez!" she cried.  
  
A jet of royal blue light shot from her wand. Dumbledore stumbled slightly upon contact; however, when the glow subsided, he had an excited look on his face.  
  
"I-I think you did it!" he exclaimed, as he beamed at her. Professor Grimqui, who had been watching closely, strode over to the two.  
  
"Incredible Ms. Granger, just incredible. There hasn't been one student yet who has performed the spell successfully, yet you stroll on in here and on your first try, you seal the spell flawlessly! Go ahead, Mr. Dumbledore, lift up one of the weights I have set out."  
  
Dumbledore quickly made his way over to a 500-pound weight, which he seized up with ease. He held it high above his head, grinning all the while.  
  
"Yes, that will do, Mr. Dumbledore. 20 points to Gryffindor, for Ms. Granger's impressive performance!"  
  
A few of the students clapped, the rest of them simply glowered. Hermione imagined what it must be like to be shown up by a girl who already stood out because of her accident. Heat rose in her face as Dumbledore came rushing back to her.  
  
"Are you ready for me to try the spell on you?" he asked.  
  
"Ya, sure. . ." she mumbled as she attempted to shake her mind away from her worries.  
  
The rest of charms ran smoothly after that. Dumbledore, too, managed to perform the spell on Hermione. She had some fun by lifting a 100-pound weight with one arm.  
  
Transfiguration, which Hermione had been looking forward to, turned out to be somewhat dull.  
  
The teacher, a short, scrawny and somewhat hunch-backed woman, assigned book work for the class period.  
  
Dumbledore, however, spiced things up for her a bit when he slipped her a sugar quill to suck on while she wrote. He himself was enjoying a sack of lemon drops, which he kept hidden in his robes. It wasn't hard to sneak candy during the class anyway; Ms. Rosenthal failed to notice most of the things the students were doing behind her back.  
  
"She really is rather thick," Dumbledore whispered to Hermione, as Ms. Rosenthal leaned back lazily in her plush armchair, dazing off into space. The two of them giggled silently.  
  
When the laughter subsided, Hermione felt a slight tingling sensation on the back of her neck. She looked behind her only to see those three Gryffindor girls, Victoria, Emily and Margaret, in the far corner of the room, positively glaring at her. She grimaced slightly, and wondered whether it would be a good idea to tell Dumbledore about the other night.  
  
*Best not to worry him,* she thought to herself. When class ended, and Ms. Rosenthal bid them no means of a goodbye, rather than offer Hermione his arm, as usual, Dumbledore put his arm around her waist again. Hermione smiled at him. She was very appreciative of the gesture, but she was slightly nervous as to how Victoria, Emily and Margaret would react. She tried not to look at them as they exited the classroom, but it was to no avail. When they had traveled not far down the corridor, the three caught up to them, and cut them off.  
  
"Good afternoon, Albus," they sang, as they grinned and curtsied.  
  
"Ladies," he replied nonchalantly, nodding to each.  
  
The girls gave each other knowing looks, as they turned their attention towards Hermione.  
  
"We just wanted to congratulate you on a job well done in charms today!" Victoria exclaimed.  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Ya!" Margaret pitched in, "marvelously done!"  
  
"Absolutely!" Emily added.  
  
"Thank you," Hermione replied, still remaining skeptical.  
  
"Yes, well, the three of us were talking and we were just wondering. . ." Victoria curled her hair between the fingers of her left hand, as she reached her right into her pockets,  
  
"How are you with curses?"  
  
At this, Victoria whipped out her wand, as did the other three. Hermione, who had been keenly aware of what Victoria was doing, snatched hers out to meet them. Dumbledore, who was utterly shocked at the girl's behavior, withdrew his as well.  
  
"Honestly, let's stop all of this Tom-foolery!" he exclaimed.  
  
"I will if you will, Albus!" Victoria screeched. "Why is it that you fascinate over her so!? There's nothing extraordinary about the girl at all, to swoon over her is utter nonsense!"  
  
"You think so? I happen to find her to be extremely intelligent, clever, witty, beautiful. . .and above all, moral; a trait that one sees less and less of these days." Victoria, Margaret and Emily gawked at him.  
  
"You don't honestly believe that no one heard about the scene in the girls' dormitories last night, do you? Please, that Meredith Trevethan is one of the biggest gossips I've ever met."  
  
Panic was now clearly visible in the three girls eyes. All seemed frozen with fear, until,  
  
"Rictusempra!" Emily shouted. Hermione found herself stumbling backwards, however, she still remained on her feet.  
  
"That really was quite pitiful. You know, of course, that when done properly the victim is thrown off of his or her own feet, and forced back by at least seven feet?" teased Hermione, as she eyed Emily. The other two remained too shocked to do anything.  
  
"Here's a simple little jinx for you. Petrificus Totalis!"  
  
The three froze, their limbs snapped to their sides, and their balanced failed. Victoria, Emily and Margaret were left face down in the center of the corridor for all to see.  
  
"I learned that in my first year," Hermione said to Dumbledore, "I can't believe they didn't block it!"  
  
All he could do was grin at her.  
  
"What?" Hermione asked, "You don't disapprove of what I did, do you?"  
  
"Not in the least," Dumbledore replied, still smiling.  
  
"Well good then, I'd hate to lose my reputation for being, oh what was it, intelligent, clever, witty, beautiful. . .and above all, moral."  
  
She gazed up into his eyes, a smile spreading across her lips.  
  
Dumbledore looked nervous now. He bit his lower lip, and began to shuffle his feet.  
  
Hermione simply nudged him in the side.  
  
"That was quite sweet of you, thank you."  
  
Relief seemed to flood over his face. "Anytime," he choked as he gingerly placed one shaky arm back on her waist.  
  
"And, might I add, I so do admire a woman who can defend herself."  
  
Dumbledore was rewarded for his bold move with a return embrace. Hermione had wrapped her arm around him as well, pulling him closer to her. Lucky for them, the halls were nearly deserted; most everyone had made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. No one was any the wiser that the new comer, Hermione Granger, had seduced the desperately sought after Albus Dumbledore. 


	5. Chapter 5

"H-H-Hermione?"  
  
Hermione groaned.  
  
"Go away, Jenny, it's Saturday. Can't I just sleep?"  
  
"It's Albus, Hermione."  
  
"Albus!" Hermione screeched as her eyes shot open. Her sheets were barely covering her upper body, which was a concern due to the extremely low cut neckline on her white nightgown. She grabbed as much sheeting as she possibly could to cover herself, while rubbing her eyes furiously.  
  
"I'm so terribly sorry! I wouldn't have come up if the house elf Jenny hadn't sent me! She showed me the passageway through the Entrance Hall, and told me to check on you. She said she would have done it herself, if she wasn't so very busy in the kitchen. I assumed you would be awake, it is 1:30 after all and. . ."  
  
"It's quite alright Albus," she said, cutting him off. "I appreciate you waking me up. Don't worry so, I'm glad to see you." Hermione smiled, even though her insides were screaming at the tops of their lungs. Dear God, she must look like something the cat hacked up.  
  
"If you'll just excuse me for a moment," she added, abruptly, as she ripped off the bed covers and skidded into the bathroom.  
  
"Of course," Dumbledore replied, barely above a whisper.  
  
Hermione wrenched open the door and quickly clicked it shut behind her. A mirror promptly greeted her as she entered the room. She walked towards it, slowly; almost afraid of what would be staring back at her. However, to her great relief, she didn't look half bad. Her hair may be slightly disheveled, and her dress may be a bit too revealing, but other than that. . .  
  
After a few short minutes of some of her favorite cleaning and tidying spells, she threw on her spare dress, which, luckily, she had placed on the counter top next to the sink the night before. Her head was still a bit foggy, and her mind was spinning. She was about to open the door to greet him when, as an afterthought, she performed the following spell on herself: "gout de citron." Now, for the next few hours, her mouth will taste and smell of lemons. *Why on earth did you use that spell? Do you really think it'll come in handy?* she asked herself, as she opened the door.  
  
Dumbledore was found sitting on the bed, his shoulders hunched over and his head dangling like a dead weight.  
  
"Sorry if I kept you waiting," Hermione said, walking towards him.  
  
"Not at all," he replied, as he slowly lifted his head. It looked as though it took him a great amount of effort to do so. "I'd just like to apologize once again, I really didn't mean to intrude-"  
  
At that moment, something in Hermione's brain clicked. Whatever Dumbledore was saying, she wasn't hearing it. It was all white noise. She found herself walking towards the bed, and sitting down next to him. Her mind was no longer in control. There was only a dull understanding inside of her, telling her that what she was doing was right. That teasing, flirting and even- dare she think it- kissing him was perfectly fine. There was a brief pause when she couldn't help but ask herself the following question: was this blind craving for Dumbledore's lips simply a strong hormonal urge that she couldn't fight; that was forcing her to go against many of the moral fibers which she held deep inside of her? A sudden lack of ethical objection washed over her, as her mind boldly shouted, *oh, who the fuck cares?*  
  
Letting go of her inner torment, she closed her eyes, and delicately pressed her full, red lips against his soft, warm ones.  
  
Dumbledore immediately hushed up. His muscles tensed. His neck straightened. When Hermione's lips parted, she began to feel a bit nervous. Had she acted too quickly? Would he accept what she had just done?  
  
He took in a long, rasping breath, before whispering, "You're very lovely, Hermione."  
  
Hermione smiled. That was just the kind of response she had hoped for.  
  
"And you're very handsome, Albus," she whispered back, as she rested her head against his shoulder. There was a moment of somewhat awkward silence. Hermione noticed that Dumbledore couldn't quite manage to keep his breathing regular, so she decided to break the silence.  
  
"So, did you have any plans for today? I'd love to see what you do to entertain yourself on the weekends."  
  
Dumbledore sat up. A mischievous smile had suddenly spread across his face, as he made his way towards his brown leather bag, which sat in the far corner of the room. He unbuckled the two clasps, and flipped back the weighted leather flap. What met Hermione's eyes sent her mind reeling back to the Hogwarts she knew and loved, with Harry, Ron and the others. An array of heart-felt excursions such as hidden trips to Hagrid's hut, or heroic quests to save one creature or another, came racing through her mind like a flipping picture book. Tears were beginning to flood her vision, as Albus Dumbledore's invisibility cloak spilled across the bedroom floor. "Hermione, do you know what this is?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, it's an invisibility cloak. I. . . know a boy at my school who owns one."  
  
"Every other weekend or so, I like to sneak out of the castle with a few of my friends to Hogsmeade- it's been like a tradition since our third year. There's a secret passage, through a statue of a one-eyed witch, which is unknown to any prefect or professor. If you want, we could go and. . ." he trailed off, apparently unsure of what to say next. Hermione started feeling quite excited. This was just the kind of thing she had been craving, an adventure. Her life had always been filled with events like these when she was around Harry; a little rule breaking was just what she needed to feel right at home.  
  
"It sounds absolutely wonderful," she said, now walking towards the cloak.  
  
"Really? You're not afraid of getting caught?"  
  
"Please, we could get caught doing worse things than this," she replied as she picked up the cloak, and slipped it over the two of them. The cloak was a bit smaller than Harry's, so the two had to squish together to stay hidden.  
  
"Why are we putting the cloak on now?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"So that I have an excuse to walk this close to you through the halls," Hermione giggled.  
  
Dumbledore's eyes widened, and his cheeks blushed. "Oh," he replied, sheepishly.  
  
" Alloggiamenti dell'ospite," Hermione whispered as she pointed her wand towards the portrait of the flower vase.  
  
The two made their way through the passage (with Dumbledore giggling all the while, finding it quite amusing that Hermione insisted on staying invisible) and into the Entrance Hall.  
  
"We have to get up to the third floor corridor, that's where the statue is," Dumbledore said, pointing towards the staircase.  
  
The rest of the trip was in silence. Students and teachers were everywhere to be seen, milling around through the halls.  
  
"Isn't that it?" Hermione asked, spotting the statue halfway down the hallway.  
  
Dumbledore nodded, while pulling his wand out of his robe pocket.  
  
"Dissendium," he whispered, tapping the stone witch on her hump. Promptly, the hump opened.  
  
"Just follow me," he said, as he made his way to hoist himself up.  
  
Hermione reached out after him, and took hold of his shoulders.  
  
"We'll never be able to stay under the cloak together, let's just take it off and dive through the opening as quickly as possible."  
  
"That sounds like a challenge to me. . ."  
  
"Albus!"  
  
Dumbledore, who was too quick for Hermione, reached down, grabbed her by the thighs, and hoisted her onto his back.  
  
"Now wait, Albus, be reasonable, can we really fit like this. . ."  
  
"We'll just have to see!" he exclaimed, as he started a mad dash towards the opening. Dumbledore used every ounce of leg strength he possessed to push the two of them up off the ground, just high enough so that they tumbled forwards, and cleared the entrance.  
  
"ALBUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!" Hermione screamed. They were now careening down a rather steep stone slide.  
  
"I can't believe I cleared it!" he yelled, grabbing Hermione and holding her close to him.  
  
A look of sheer panic appeared on her face.  
  
"You mean you had doubts!" she shrieked.  
  
Suddenly, the joy ride ended. Both flew off of the slide, and landed on the cool, damp earth.  
  
"Ow," Dumbledore mumbled. His face was being crushed by Hermione's stomach. Hermione leapt up.  
  
"I'm so sorry Albus, are you alright?" she asked.  
  
"Ya, ya I'm fine!" he assured her, giving her a dopey grin. "That was some ride, wasn't it? Fantastic!"  
  
Hermione laughed, and reached down to give him a hand. "So where does this tunnel lead to?"  
  
Dumbledore dusted himself off, before responding, "Ah, that would be to the cellar of Honeydukes, one of the greatest sweet shops imaginable!"  
  
Hermione restrained herself from commenting on Honeydukes' age. Instead she nodded, put on her eager face, and got going.  
  
The passage was crooked and twisted, and the ground was rough and uneven, with roots and weeds sticking out in the oddest of places. Had it not been for the light emitting from Dumbledore's wand, the two wouldn't have known up from down. The air was thick, wet, and chilling. Hermione was shivering uncontrollably, until Dumbledore wrapped her in the excess material of his outer cloak. The rest of their journey was spent huddled together, through the rough and unstable dirt tunnel. Hermione clutched the front of his robes, in an attempt to pull herself closer to his body heat. They parted only to march up the much-awaited staircase, which led to Honeydukes' cellar. 


	6. Chapter 6

"Ow! God dammit. . ." Hermione hissed, as she reached her hand out from under the warmth of Dumbledore's cloak, to rub the top of her head.  
  
"There's the cellar door," Dumbledore said, reaching up and pushing it outwards.  
  
The basement was quite cluttered; barrels and crates were stacked up against the wooden walls, which appeared to be in need of a good amount of dusting.  
  
"There's the staircase up to Honeydukes over there," Dumbledore whispered, pointing straight ahead. After a quick glance around to make sure no one was there, both jogged towards the staircase and trotted, lightly, up the splintery wooden steps. Hermione began to hear the busy, chatting voices and creaking floorboards under the weight of the many customers above. The large number of people made it much easier for them to slip into the crowd from around the counter, unnoticed.  
  
"It's always so busy in here," Dumbledore said, now bustling towards a rather large display of sweets.  
  
"Oh look, sugar quills!" Hermione exclaimed.  
  
"And lemon drops,"  
  
"And toffees,"  
  
"And Fizzing Whizzbees,"  
  
"And Bertie Botts,"  
  
"Ah ha! And yes, by golly they finally got in a new shipment of sherbet lemon!" Dumbledore roared, proudly holding up a neatly tied purple package.  
  
Hermione gave him a toothy grin. She found the childish joy that Dumbledore received from the candy shop simply adorable. The excitement he felt over the littlest of things made Hermione even more thrilled about being there with him.  
  
She watched him happily bounce from one display to another, popping incredibly large amounts of nearly everything into his satchel.  
  
"Hey Hermione, did you see the chocolates!?"  
  
"Ooh, do they have dark chocolate?" she asked, it was her favorite. "Naturally! What kind of sweet shop would this be without such a necessity as dark chocolate?"  
  
"Of course," she giggled, stuffing a few coconut clusters in her bag.  
  
After a few more moments of ogling the abundant sweet stands, Dumbledore and Hermione paid for their candy, and left the store.  
  
"Where shall we go next?" Hermione asked, looking around, trying to figure out what exactly was different about Hogsmeade.  
  
"How about The Three Broomsticks? Have you ever tried a glass of Butterbeer? It warms the heart. . ." he grinned, placing his hand over his chest.  
  
"Sure! I love butterbeer!" she exclaimed.  
  
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. There was a brief pause before he decided to open his mouth, and speak what had clearly been rattling around in his brain.  
  
"I suppose Hogsmeade doesn't seem too different, eh?"  
  
"Oh no it's. . ." Hermione stopped short, before looking up at him, and continuing, "it's exactly the same."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "I assumed so, judging by your reaction towards Honeydukes. No one who enters that shop for the first time restrains themselves to simply 5 coconut clusters, 4 sugar quills, one pound of toffees and one pound of Bertie Botts! There's not one witch nor wizard alive who possesses that kind of self control, I mean. . . honestly. . ."  
  
He held his head briefly, as if attempting to contemplate such an occurrence, and failing. Hermione rolled her eyes and kissed him on the cheek.  
  
"Alright, you caught me. So the town's the same, the shops are the same, the castle is the same. Happy?"  
  
Dumbledore grinned and nodded.  
  
"I knew you were holding back. You can tell so very easily when something reminds you of home. . ."  
  
Hermione's eyes widened. A small gasp escaped her lips, as she reeled her head back to look into his face. A knowing look seemed to have been etched upon his features. She continued to stare, intensely, attempting to read his expression. Did he know? He. . .he couldn't. . .  
  
"Hermione, the first time we met, after I told you my name. . . you mumbled Dumbledore again, as if you'd heard it before. I may be completely wrong; please, correct me if I am. . . however," he paused, unsure as to how to continue.  
  
Hermione had no idea what to say. How could she keep on lying to him like this? What was the point of concealing the truth, anyhow? If she simply told him that yes, she knew him, then perhaps that would be enough. She wouldn't have to tell him of his future position as Headmaster at Hogwarts, because if she did, who knows how that would upset the time line. But the thing that terrified her, that kept her hiding the truth, was exactly that: what if she accidentally changed history for the worst? What if some sort of action she performs here prevents him from achieving all of the marvelous things she knew he was destined for? He was a necessity in the future to help defeat Lord Voldemort, and save the life of Harry.  
  
"I suppose you can't tell me, can you?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. She must have been silent for longer than she thought.  
  
"Don't worry, I completely understand," he said winking at her.  
  
This brightened her, slightly, but that didn't stop the tears from brimming in the corners of her eyes. Something inside her was tearing itself apart. She so longed to tell him everything. To explain to him how much she cared for him, to confess her awareness of what he would become, and to completely entrench herself in the feelings which were undeniably brewing inside of her. Unable to stand it any longer, Hermione threw her arms tightly around his middle, and squeezed herself close to him. It didn't take long for him to embrace her in return.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered, still attempting to hold back her tears. She was comforted by an even tighter squeeze. After a few more moments, Dumbledore gently let go, and reached his arm up to tilt her head back by her chin; his fingers were soft and warm against her skin. Hermione's tears seemed to be illuminating the swirling shades of brown in her eyes, as she gazed deeply into his warm, blue ones. Slowly, the two leaned towards each other, and kissed. Warmth immediately spread throughout Hermione's body. His hands, which had been holding up her chin before, had slid back into her hair. His fingers worked their way gently through her scalp, massaging and tickling the roots of her hair. Hermione's muscles seemed to give way to his touch, as her arms glided heavily down his back, and to her sides.  
  
The kiss then became all the more gentle and loving, as Dumbledore delicately placed both hands on her hips, and pulled her closer to him.  
  
Hermione felt as though this could go on forever.  
  
'Too bad it can't'  
  
It was the voice again. 'If you keep this up, he'll remember for sure, and then it'll be over. You'll be taken back.'  
  
The tears threatened to start flowing more heavily again.  
  
'NO!' screamed another voice; a new one, a strong one. 'No, you will not ruin your happiness with him. You know it's inevitable that you go back, staying would be foolish. You belong with your parents, Harry, Ron, and everyone else you've grown close to over the years. So why not enjoy your time while you're here? Why not savor the love you've found?'  
  
And with that, the hidden passion she felt welled inside of her was released, and the kiss became more and more heated.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione sank down into the plush, brightly colored armchair which sat facing a flickering fire in Gryffindor Tower. Dumbledore was currently walking up to the boy's dormitory, after kissing her lightly on the cheek, and giving her right shoulder a gentle squeeze goodbye. Nearly everyone who had been situated in the common room at the time stared at the two, appalled by the blatant display of affection they showed towards one another. Hermione really didn't care; back at home, it wouldn't have surprised her terribly to see a couple like Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson making out in a corner. A kiss on the cheek hardly seemed like the scandal of the century.  
  
She leaned back, lifted her feet and rested them atop an overly stuffed footstool. Her nose felt cold, numb and red; and her limbs ached with exhaustion. She always found this feeling somewhat rewarding, the feeling that she had accomplished something physically demanding, therefore justifying her relaxed state. Her dry eyes delicately shut, in an attempt to close out all outer noise.  
  
What a day it had been. She had finally come to grips with her feelings towards Dumbledore, and he knew it too (Hermione was pretty sure passionate tongue kissing delivered the message quite nicely). Now all she had to do was cope with her extreme discomfort concerning the elder Dumbledore.  
  
She received the sudden urge to ram her head into a wall, or dig herself a hole every time her mind wandered towards him. How could she possibly explain it to him if and when he remembered all of this? The mere thought of him, sitting at his desk, scribbling down one important letter or another and suddenly being blind sided with the memory of her, shall we say, rather robust performance that day was too much for her. She hastily massaged her temples in an effort to rub the thought away.  
  
'Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit!' her mind screeched, as the image began fading slightly. Suddenly, she found she couldn't bear to sit still. Ripping herself upright and propelling herself to a standing position, she marched towards the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories.  
  
"Hermione Granger!"  
  
Hermione froze in mid step. Oh God, who could that be. She quickly turned around only to be faced with a pimply blonde haired boy sporting a Gryffindor prefect badge.  
  
"Yes, that would be me," she called, trying to get his attention.  
  
With a haughty sigh, he thrust his arm outward, and began waving a piece of parchment at her.  
  
"Thanks," she mumbled, snatching the paper out of his hand. The boy's upper lip curled, and with a short nod, he turned and strutted towards the exit. Hermione rolled her eyes, and unraveled the parchment.  
  
Dear Ms. Granger:  
  
It is the unfortunate duty of the Ministry of Magic to inform you that we have failed in the attempt of inventing a suitable time turner for your return to said time period of January 5th, 2003. We offer our most sincere condolences.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Minister of Magic Mortuous Pigwaddle  
  
Hermione had almost completely forgotten that the people here had been working to get her back, as well. She had never really expected them to be able to do anything; their original promises had seemed hollow, and hopeless. But there was something about seeing it written in print, that there was no way the Ministry of Magic could help, that somewhat disturbed her. Now here hope solely lay with Dumbledore. . .  
  
She was suddenly feeling quite melancholy. Her mind fogged over, almost consciously sparing her of all the concerns and worries which scurried frantically around her brain. In a somewhat dreamy state, she turned around, and headed towards the Gryffindor guest chambers. 


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione stayed awake for quite some time after receiving the letter. She lay on her back, berating herself for ever getting involved, for ever breaking the turner in the first place. But in the end, she knew that if she had to do it all over again, she'd still have fallen in love with Albus  
  
Dumbledore.  
  
It was Sunday. That meant another day spent with Albus. What would he have in store for her today? A sock knitting session? A smile tugged at her lips at the thought of Albus, surrounded by a pile of variously colored socks, and furiously knitting on another blue pair to match his eyes.  
  
God she loved him.  
  
Struck with a sudden burst of hopeful energy, she leapt out of bed, and began getting ready. It was only 7:00, perhaps if she got ready fast enough, she could be prepared for Albus before he got up.  
  
Hermione stepped tentatively on the first stair towards the boys' dormitories. Should she go up and see if he was awake? What about all the other boys? Oh, but it would be so fun to wake him up! All right, if there are any other boys but Albus who remain in the dorm, she'll leave immediately. Sounds like a plan.  
  
The door was the same heavy, clunky wooden thing she remembered from Harry and Ron's dormitory. A loud creaking noise emitted from the door as she slowly pushed it open, revealing 5 four-poster beds, with only one inhabited. A mischievous smile swiftly spread across her face. Forgetting the loudness in her steps she began trotting across the floor, quickly gaining speed, and propelled herself upward just as she got to the foot of his bed. Her brief flight in mid air ended within a fraction of a second as she landed, hard, upon Albus's unsuspecting person.  
  
"G'morning!" Hermione squealed.  
  
"Ah! Ugh, oh. . . .Hermione! Wha-why. . ."  
  
"Just thought since you got to give me a surprise wake-up, I'd give you one too," she grinned, trying all too hard to appear cute and innocent after her rather intrusive assault.  
  
"I see. . . seems fair enough to me," he yawned, rubbing his eyes.  
  
Hermione giggled. "I hope I wasn't too rough on you."  
  
"Oh, no, not at all. . .you were like a cat, really. . .you know, the kind that leaps upon your bed and paws at you until you get up and pet them."  
  
"Um, I think you're still a little sleepy," she whispered, as she leaned over and gave him a light kiss on his lips.  
  
Just as she began to sit up and roll off of him, she found herself seized around the middle. Quickly she fell back on top of him, with her face buried in his crisp, rumpled white sheets.  
  
"Think you're getting away that easily, do you?" Dumbledore mused, as he settled her next to him on the right side of his bed.  
  
Hermione laughed, snuggled herself against his chest, and positioned her face close to his.  
  
"You're in an especially good mood this morning. Is there anything I should know?" she teased, and began running her fingers through his thick, auburn hair.  
  
"No, no nothing. . . just that I find you unfathomably beautiful," he replied, mumbling the last part very quickly.  
  
"Oh, now you're getting mushy one me!" she laughed, and stroked his right cheek. Dumbledore blushed furiously.  
  
Hermione rolled off of him slowly, and sat in a chair near his bed. "I'll give you a few minutes to compose yourself, shall I go and wait for you downstairs?"  
  
"No, that's quite all right, I'll only be a moment," he chocked as he slid off his mattress and scuttled into the bathroom.  
  
Hermione watched him go, and couldn't help but grin when she noticed the bloomers.  
  
*******************************************  
  
Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's stomach did a sudden flip.  
  
Was it the hot chocolate?  
  
He tilted the cup and glanced inside. Nothing out of the ordinary, he added the same amount of chocolate to the steaming milk as he always did. So why was it that he couldn't keep his heart rate steady? He ran his tongue along the outside of his lips. It felt as though there had just been a soft, warm pressure on them. . . as if he had just been kissed.  
  
"Honestly, Albus, your hot chocolate recipe is good, but not that good," he said to himself, as he shook his head and took a seat in the plush purple chair behind his desk. After a few moments, he was feeling almost normal, until another surge of adrenaline rushed through his veins. His fingers trembled, and his legs wobbled. He let his eyelids slowly shut over his dry, widened eyes. He allowed darkness to consume his vision, to sooth him, until. . . A sudden flash of white light blinded him. Hermione Granger's face was hovering over his. Her lips were pursed. Her eyes were hungry. Her hands tickled his neck and traveled up into his hair, which felt strangely thick. He realized that his skin felt firm, and his bones and muscles felt stronger. As she placed her deliciously plump lips on his own, he was once again consumed by blackness.  
  
His head was on his desk. Bit by bit he unclenched the muscles in his face, and opened his eyes. He sat up and leaned his back against the chair. Hermione Granger, was this the answer to her whereabouts after the time turner accident?  
  
"Bloody hell," Dumbledore mumbled.  
  
He ripped open his desk drawer to reveal a neatly placed quill and stack of stationary paper. Almost frantically, he began scrawling out a letter. His penmanship lacked its usual luster, but now, Dumbledore thought, was no time to consider the neatness of his handwriting. When he had finished dotting the I's and crossing the T's, he called Fawkes to him.  
  
"Take this to Professor McGonagall, immediately," he said, and tied the letter to his leg. The phoenix acknowledged him briefly, before soaring away. 


	8. Chapter 8

Professor McGonagall was grading fourth year transfiguration tests when Fawkes' rapping caught her attention.  
  
Gently setting down the horn-rimmed spectacles, she made her way across the room and opened the heavy oak door. Gathering her robes around her more tightly, she accepted the parchment.  
  
"Thank you." She said crisply, and Fawkes disappeared with a swish of his tail feathers.  
  
McGonagall sat down at her desk, not sure what to expect. Usually if there was something the Headmaster needed to discuss, it would wait until morning. Sighing, the transfiguration teacher slit the envelope open with her wand.  
  
The further her eyes traveled down the paper, the larger her eyes got. She slowly raised an aging hand and covered her mouth.  
  
"Oh Albus...what have you done?"  
  
*****************************************  
  
Hermione grinned as Albus returned from the bathroom. His robes were neatly pressed, but his face showed just how disgruntled and off-balance he was. Reaching across to take Hermione's hand, he pretended to be sorely insulted.  
  
"Barging in here with no invitation, quite rude you know! Not knowing whether or not the others were up here to see you make your appearance... mmmmaahghh!"  
  
Albus found himself quickly stifled as Hermione bombarded him with pillows.  
  
"Oh listen to him! Going on about intruding when he himself ran into my room only a few days-ALBUS!"  
  
Albus giggled like a youngster as he pinned Hermione to the floor under a lethal amount of fluffy whiteness.  
  
"WLBUS! WABLUS!"  
  
Albus removed one of the pillows, exposing Hermione's face. Before she could compose herself, he went in for the kill. One sweet, simple kiss on the lips. Hermione returned the token of affection fully, and soon both were entangled in the soft pillows.  
  
Reluctantly Hermione broke away, and started to pick up the pillows. She mussed Albus' hair, and was rewarded by a disgruntled scowl.  
  
"Ha, don't look like something the hippogriff coughed up!" She teased, sitting on his bed. She leaned down. "Even if you do look cuter that way!"  
  
Albus took his revenge by promptly tickling her. Between gasps, Hermione managed to choke out  
  
"So, what are we doing today? It's still the weekend after all."  
  
Hermione closed her eyes and lay back, imaging all the possibilities. She sat up, grinning.  
  
"Well, we could go to the library, or go watch the quidditch match today. Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw." Albus suggested.  
  
Hermione thought of a warm library, sitting extremely close to Albus and studying. A balloon began to swell inside of her, a balloon that was suddenly punctured when a memory pushed its way through her mind. It must have shown on her face.  
  
"Hermione? What's wrong?"  
  
Hermione attempted a smile.  
  
"Oh nothing... just thinking of home. Come on, let's go to the library, get a jump on the transfig-eh, potions homework?"  
  
Albus grinned.  
  
"Alright, let's go!"  
  
As they traveled down the stairs and through the common room, inwardly Hermione began to cry. It hadn't been just thoughts of home that had brought her to reality. It was the thought of Albus... in the library. Vividly Hermione recalled in her first year when the older Dumbledore himself had signed a restricted section pass for her, then went down personally to help her find what she needed. Suddenly the library didn't seem like a good idea anymore.  
  
She stopped.  
  
"Um...Albus?"  
  
Albus stopped. "Yes?" He asked innocently, slipping an arm around her waist.  
  
"Maybe.... maybe we should watch the match instead. I could use it to take my mind off...things."  
  
Albus cocked his head. Hermione quickly recovered.  
  
"I mean, last night I received a letter from the Ministry, they said they couldn't make a turner strong enough to send me back. I'm just a bit upset." She analyzed the different emotions on his face.  
  
"But you've really helped me, Albus! I don't think I'd be getting through this all without you."  
  
Albus beamed, and without question escorted her towards the main hall, and out the main doors, transfiguring scarves and hats out of thin air for them both.  
  
"Thank you." She murmured softly, graciously accepting the pink wool scarf.  
  
"Not at all!"  
  
A skip, a jump, and a quick bound over the lingering mud puddle later, Hermione found herself in the stands. She gazed out onto the field as the players took their positions, and she tried to concentrate on the upcoming game.  
  
Yet as the game began to heat up, Hermione couldn't help but become homesick quickly. Very quickly.  
  
"See the seeker? There, the one near the end Ravenclaw hoop gazing in every direction. That's Jose Tostem, he just transferred here from Escuela De La Magia in Spain."  
  
Dumbledore paused to admire the catlike grace of the player as he smoothly glided through the air in search of his quarry.  
  
"And to think, he's only a first year. First one in-"  
  
"-one hundred years."  
  
Dumbledore looked at Hermione oddly. The tears were flowing silently and slowly. He looked alarmed.  
  
"Hermione, is something bothering you? Is it the game, it reminds you of home doesn't it? I'm so sorry, I never should have brought you here, I know this is hard for you, don't cry, please, whatever you do, don't cry!"  
  
Hermione paused in her stem to gaze into the face beside her, so upset and hurt. Dumbledore's eyes were red, and he was biting his lip back.  
  
Hermione couldn't help it, the corners of her mouthed twitched upwards.  
  
"Albus, if half of the boys from my time were more like you, what a better place Hogwarts would be."  
  
And with a tremendous roar of triumph, the entire school stood as one to cheer Jose Tostem as he dived forwards towards the snitch. Two people however, couldn't have been more oblivious, wrapped tenderly in each other's embrace.  
  
*********************  
  
Headmaster Dumbeldore sat at his desk, his head laying flat on the desk, squashing his already ready oddly-bent nose. With an odd, incoherent grunt he raised his migrane-ridden head up slightly, gazed at the remnants of the broken time-turner in front of him, and slammed his head back onto the desk with a THUMP.  
  
The memories came more rapidly now, and also frighteningly vivid. Especially the one-NO! No, he refused it to even penetrate his very conscience.......And there was nothing he could do to stop it, prevent it from coming........ He didn't know the extent of it, but the vague flashes were enough to send any sensible fellow senile.  
  
Staring at the remains of an eagle-feathered quill he had snapped during one of the most recent flashes, he brought his hands to rest in the great length of his silver hair.  
  
BOOM.  
  
Banging his head against the desk once more, only one word was audible.  
  
"Damn." 


	9. Chapter 9

Emma Ackroyd- thanks, I'm glad you think so! I'm trying my best to do Sabeth justice.  
  
Badassgothicgirl-why was Dumbledore upset? Hmm, I suppose one would guess it has SOMETHING to do with the letter to McGonagall........ he's obviously stressed over....... something.  
  
PheonixPadfoot89-you think you know eh? Bonus points if you can guess! (But don't. Please. ;-)  
  
Monkeystarz-don't die!! Thanks for all your 'love' though.  
  
***********************  
  
Red-eyed, slumped over, and with an odd dent in his forehead. This was how Professor McGonagall came upon Albus Dumbledore the next morning.  
  
"Albus!" She cried, rushing over, thinking the old man's body had finally beaten him.  
  
"Fill 'er up......jussss one moore........"  
  
McGonagall stopped, then grinned. How often was it that the strongest wizard in the world was totally...... out? She let her voice crack like a whip in the headmaster's ear.  
  
"Albus! Up this instant!"  
  
Dumbeldore jerked.  
  
"Wha?"  
  
McGonagall wrinkled her nose.  
  
"You're sitting here like a common muggle drunk! Now sit up, and help me think of a way to get Miss Granger back before what you wrote of comes true!"  
  
Dumbledore rubbed his eyes.  
  
"But if I'm having memories about it, then it's inevitable that it shall happen, Minerva. Besides, if you look at the constraints of time-travel as a whole, Herm---Miss Granger was destined to go back in time, meet m-me, and d-d-have that happen. If you think about it there's nothing we can do."  
  
Professor McGonagall surveyed Dumbledore through her glasses.  
  
"But we must get her back, surely." "Surely, Minerva. But, seeing as I'm not with her now, then it's also inevitable that she'll find her way back somehow and-"  
  
"But you're having these odd flashes NOW, Albus, and if this had really happened the way you figure you'd remember it instantly the first day she came to Hogwarts. She's gone back NOW and is re-writing history."  
  
Dumbledore wrinkled his eyebrows.  
  
"Yet if this was destined to happen anyway, of course I wouldn't remember until now because she would not have gone back in time until now."  
  
Both professors looked at each other.  
  
McGonagall threw her hands in the air.  
  
"It doesn't matter what twisted theory we could possibly come up with, we must begin talk on how she may return."  
  
Dumbledore grinned, and with a gust of energy rose up and threw back the curtains in his office. The portraits on the wall squinted and blinked in protest, not having seen the sunlight in three days.  
  
"Right...... first we alert the ministry I suppose."  
  
McGonagall waggled a finger at Dumbledore.  
  
"While you were.......sleeping......I already did that. They've come up with several different options, none that seem very good."  
  
Dumbledore stared, and sat down again, offering a chair to the transfiguration teacher.  
  
"Option one. A Ministry wizard goes back in time, and brings her back-"  
  
"Would never work."  
  
McGonagall gave the closet thing to a glare.  
  
"I know it wouldn't work."  
  
She cleared her throat.  
  
"Option 2. Old magic-" "Stop. Just stop."  
  
McGonagall regarded him levelly. "Yes?"  
  
"Please excuse me, Minerva, but I've dealt with 'Old Magic' far too often the past 15 years. Please spare me."  
  
The transfiguration teacher sniffed.  
  
"Well, ultimately, the decision is up to Hermione. We are powerless, and can do nothing. Now, if you excuse me, I have more papers to correct, and you, Albus, have a school to master."  
  
With a small bow, she was gone.  
  
Dumbledore stared ahead. Up to Hermione? Good Goblins....... He glanced down at the heavy oak desk in front of him. It was so tempting.......  
  
"Oh, and Professor,"  
  
Dumbledore jumped as McGonagall stuck her head in the door.  
  
"Don't bang your head on the desk, Professor Sprout was telling me how her Hufflepuffs couldn't sleep a wink, an odd banging noise kept them awake."  
  
She left.  
  
Dumbledore knew his old friend rarely smirked, but he swore this time she did.  
  
*********************  
  
"It was such an exciting match, wasn't it Hermione?"  
  
Dumbledore grinned, his boyish enthusiasm returning in a thrice.  
  
Hermione gave him a seductive look.  
  
"What match?" She purred, taking his land and lacing their fingers together.  
  
"Hermione......."  
  
Before she knew it, Albus' arm had snaked around her waist, guided her into a deserted corridor, and she was soon caught up one of the most affectionate kisses she thought possible.  
  
Slowly they worked, as Hermione felt her back press gently against the stone wall. She wrapped her arms around Albus' neck, and returned the kiss with full passion.  
  
The figure that had been following them recoiled, leaning slightly out of her hiding place so the moonlight shone off the white ribbons in her hair.  
  
"Wench......." The figured hissed, and retreated into the shadows.  
  
"Hermione......."  
  
Hermione smiled, completely content as she stood, held in Albus' arms.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I.......I think I love you, Hermione."  
  
Albus spun her around, so they were face-to-face. Hermione met those twinkling blue eyes, surrounded by a face she knew so well, yet had only seen for three days so far.  
  
"You, what?"  
  
Albus clasped Hermione's face in his hand, and tenderly stroked her cheek.  
  
"I think I've fallen in love with you."  
  
Hermione's breath caught in her chest. She glanced down, and then forced herself to meet those blue eyes. Eyes full of truth, love, and for the first time she had seen, longing.  
  
"I dream about you Hermione, and I forget to live. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."  
  
Hermione gave a small cry at the familiar words, and suddenly saw the face of her headmaster before her. She wrenched her face away his hands, tears streaming down her cheeks.  
  
"No, no! I can't......do this......"  
  
She fled down the dark corridor, leaving behind a broken heart. Little did she know she was running into the arms of a crouching tiger.  
  
Albus stood where Hermione had left him, his hands raised in front of him as if they carried a deadly disease. He had said something, done something, hell what did he do?  
  
Allowing only a few tears to fall, Albus Dumbledore, future headmaster of Hogwarts, wearily trudged towards Gryffindor tower, head bowed.  
  
************  
  
"Hello, wench."  
  
Hermione was allowed only a sharp intake of breath as she was shoved against a pillar, a wand pressed against her throat.  
  
"Victoria!"  
  
Luckily, Hermione's hand had flown inside her cloak as she was pushed, and she gripped her wand tight.  
  
"Just go ahead, utter one syllable. I'm dying for a reason."  
  
The crazed girl threw her wand to the ground, and pulled out a knife.  
  
"You stole him from me, stole him!" Victoria cried, pressing the flat of the blade to Hermione's fair neck. "He was mine, until you came along!"  
  
"Victoria.... please......"  
  
"Well, looks like Albus won't be need his bitch anymore."  
  
Hermione held her breath.  
  
"Hey, you!"  
  
A voice called to them from the beginning of the corridor. Victoria flinched.  
  
Seeing the damage, she turned tail and ran. It was a Slytherin prefect that stumbled upon the scene, registering the Gryffindor girl on the floor and the bloody knife that lay nearby. 


	10. Chapter 10

Hey guys! Silinde here. Just wanted to tell you that I'm not sure when the next update's coming. In less than 5 days I leave for District Orchestra. Blah, I just had to transpose all my music too. What kind of idiot puts the first movement in Bb, the 2nd in C, then the last two in A? A complete moron. Wish me luck!  
  
Badassgothicgirl: Eh, wasn't yelling at you, just tryin tah stress ya see. Dunno italics meself. *feels all hagridish*  
  
dracos-girl8706: Thanks so much for you support, it means a lot.  
  
Monkeystarz: hehe, you should ALMOST as hyper as me. ;-) Thanks, and don't worry, I've haven't forgotten the readers!  
  
Artemis Moonclaw: Well, a lot.  
  
Doneril: *reels from the questions* If I told you, there'd be no point in writing, would there? ;-)  
  
knot2be: Well, you'll see.  
  
Innocent Bystander: Thanks, that's the whole reason why I write!  
  
Emma Ackroyd: Once again, thank you and thank you.  
  
***********************  
  
Back in his four-poster bed, Harry Potter bolted upright, being abruptly awakened.  
  
"HERMIONE!"  
  
Scared out of their wits, the remaining members of his dormitory snapped on their lights.  
  
"Harry, what's wrong?"  
  
"Someone hasn't been attacked again, have they?"  
  
"Harry, not........HIM!"  
  
Harry, his breath coming in short gasps, tried vainly to untwist the covers that had enveloped his body. He swept back his hair with his hands, and tried to put a calm look in his eyes. "Nothing........Sorry, just a bad dream. Still upset about Hermione you know......"  
  
Neville gave Harry a sympathetic smile, and helped himself to some water. He was still a bit shaken.  
  
"Yeah, we all miss her, wonder where she's gotten to though? Goodnight Harry."  
  
Everyone climbed back into bed, and soon the lights were off again. Ron, however, stayed standing by Harry's bedside.  
  
"What was it?" He whispered anxiously.  
  
Harry wrinkled his brow.  
  
"I don't know....... but it's Hermione, I know it is. Something's happened........ It hurts........"  
  
Ron's eyes widened.  
  
"Your scar?" He whispered, terrified.  
  
"No," Harry said distractedly, his hands running down from his forehead. He looked up at Ron.  
  
"It was nothing.......no, really."  
  
Ron shot him a look of disbelief.  
  
"I'm just still upset, Ron. Bad dreams. Seriously."  
  
Ron gave him a significant look.  
  
"Alright......night then."  
  
Harry watched as Ron climbed into his bed. A few minutes later steady snoring could be heard.  
  
Harry rolled over, and tried to clear his head. He found his fingers roving down from his scar to rest lightly on the side of an aching neck. Hmm, perhaps he'd been sleeping on it wrong.  
  
Feeling quite off-balance, the boy-who-lived fell back into an uneasy slumber, but not before deciding to see the headmaster first thing in the morning.  
  
******************  
  
"Professor Dumbledore sir?"  
  
Dumbledore looked up from his work.  
  
"Come in."  
  
Harry stepped into the office, and closed the heavy oak door behind him. Dumbledore regarded him lightly overtop his spectacles.  
  
"I presume you are here to discuss the whereabouts of Miss Granger?"  
  
Harry nodded and sat down, at a loss for words. Dumbledore sighed.  
  
"Well, it would please you to know then, Harry, that we know where she is, and-"  
  
"-you know where she is?? Well where? Are you getting her back? Is she hurt?"  
  
Harry had sprung from his chair, and was now almost nose-to-nose with the headmaster.  
  
Dumbledore shifted his spectacles, which had flopped lopsided on his nose when Harry had shook his desk.  
  
"Harry, this is a very.......complex situation. If you would allow me the time, I will explain it to you. But be warned, the details might not be to your.......liking."  
  
Harry brushed aside the headmaster's warning, and beckoned him to continue.  
  
An hour later, Harry slowly exited Dumbledore's office. His eyes were round, green orbs that hung in his face, and his expression was that of a stunned dragon. He didn't even realize where he was walking until Ron shook his arm at the Gryffindor table.  
  
"I missed you this morning, figured you went to Dumbledore. So, what's up?"  
  
Harry gazed at his friend, opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.  
  
"We've got problems."  
  
******************  
  
Back in 1869, early-morning emotions weren't much higher. Albus sat on his bed, fingering a small ring that sat in the palm of his hand. It was a smaller replica of the silver one he always wore on his right ring finger, and was imbedded with rubies, and the Gryffindor crest. Albus had magicked both of the rings so that the letters 'A' and 'H' were intertwined in the center ruby.  
  
Biting his lip, he slid the smaller one into his robe pocket, and headed towards the portrait hole. A nice walk. Yes, perhaps that would ease the throbbing pain he felt in his heart.  
  
Halfway towards the main hall, he bumped into quite a disturbance.  
  
"Ah, get off of me! GET OFF! I WASN'T GOING TO LET HER DIE......."  
  
Albus pushed his way through the crowd to see a Slytherin fifth year, on the floor and clearly bruised. He was covered head to toe in stinksap, and those around him began to pelt him with rubbish.  
  
"You've disgraced us, Flitcher!" Rang a clear, feminine voice. "You should have left her there, one less mudblood in the world......"  
  
The boy's eyes flashed defiantly, and Albus noticed the prefect badge pinned on his robes.  
  
"Ah come off it, Black, how do you even know she's one?"  
  
The girl scowled, and spit on the ground.  
  
"Couldn't be anymore obvious. Half of Gryffindor are anyway." She paused. "Now you'll learn to respect the ways of YOUR house."  
  
Albus watched in horror as a gang of 7th year Slytherins proceeded to beat on the cowering 5th year.  
  
Flitcher cried out as a particularly hard blow caught him in his stomach, and he doubled over, fighting for breath.  
  
"STOP THIS! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!"  
  
Albus fought his way through the throng, and went over to the 5th year.  
  
"Are you alright?" He asked, throwing an arm underneath him.  
  
"You stay out of this, Dumbledore." The girl hissed venomously.  
  
"Well, I've decided to make this my business." Albus shot back, drawing out his wand.  
  
The knot of Slytherins backed away, staring at the small piece of wood in front of them. Albus was highly renowned throughout the school for his incredible power and wandwork.  
  
"We'll meet again." The girl shot, and turned on her heel, swishing her cloak and briskly taking off down the hallway. Most of the other Slytherins followed, the ones that didn't melting out of sight, shooting Albus fearful glances as they did so.  
  
Albus turned his attention to the boy on the floor, who was attempting to stem the flow of blood from what looked like a broken nose. Albus threw both arms underneath him, and heaved him up on his feet.  
  
"Danks." The boy said, brushing his robes off. "Budd I don' need your help anymore."  
  
Albus persisted.  
  
"You talked about a girl. Who?"  
  
The boy shot him a scathing look.  
  
"'S nond of your busidess. I found a girl and dook her do deh hospidal wing lasd nigh'."  
  
He turned.  
  
Albus shot after him.  
  
"Wait! Aren't you going to the hospital wing? You're pretty beat up-"  
  
"AWAY WID YOU!" The boy yelled, his eyes round in anger. "Dis has noding do do wid you, or your heroic Gryffindor ways. I will cope wid whad I have. Gooday."  
  
Albus watched his retreating back.  
  
"You know, what you did for that girl, it was very un-Slytherin of you."  
  
The boy glanced back, scowled, but didn't say anything. Albus allowed himself a quick grin before he took of in the direction of the hospital wing.  
  
When he arrived, he found the room occupied by nobody less than the headmaster, and the Gryffindor head of house. Thinking that he probably wouldn't be welcomed right now, Albus stowed himself behind a pillar outside of the room. The door was wide open, and every word carried through on the breeze that flowed through the room, courtesy of an open window.  
  
"Yes, the Flitcher boy found her, just lying there on the floor. Examining the wound when she first arrived, it had to have happened less than a few minutes by the time he brought her. This was confirmed by the prefect, who said he scared off someone who was standing by the place where she was found."  
  
Albus' eyes grew round with fright. Wound? There was a wound?  
  
"Calm down," he mumbled to himself, "you don't even know if it was Hermione."  
  
But the nagging voice in his head would not desist. It had to be her! She wasn't at breakfast this morning, no one's seen her lately....  
  
Stop it!  
  
Fine, but you know she's in there.  
  
I'll PROVE to you she's not in there. You're crazy to think it's her.......  
  
Crazy? Ha, I'm not the one trying to win an argument against myself.  
  
Albus straightened, and mentally slapped himself. Sucking in a breath of air, he walked straight into the infirmary.  
  
"HERMIONE!" Albus' fears were confirmed.  
  
"Mr. Dumbledore, this is a hospital wing!"  
  
Albus paid them no heed, and hurried to the only occupied bed, in which indeed lay Hermione. Her face was pale, her skin taunt, and a large bandage around her neck.  
  
"Madam Winsfill, why's there a bandage?? Couldn't you have just healed it in a few seconds??"  
  
Madam Winsfill gave Albus a stony stare, as if she found his inquiring offensive. She shot a look at the headmaster, who merely nodded. She sighed.  
  
"The blade she was struck with-yes THE BLADE," Madam Winsfill stressed, at seeing the stunned look on Albus' face, "was enchanted so that it'll have to heal the old-fashioned way I suppose. And it also appears to have carried fever or some other sickness on it. Whatever it is I can cure it mind you," for Albus' face had turned desperate, "but it will take awhile. She'll be here a week at least."  
  
Albus' gaze dropped to the unconscious form in front of him. He pulled a stool over to her bedside and sat down, taking her hand in his.  
  
"Now REALLY Mr. Dumbledore, I must insist-"  
  
The headmaster stopped her with a gesture of his hand.  
  
"Guinevere, I think the best medicine for Miss Granger right now is what you see in front of you."  
  
Madam Winsfill stopped, and merely shot the headmaster a final look before retreating into her quarters next door. The headmaster walked through the doorway, then looked back to see Albus clutching her hand.  
  
"I'll just run along and excuse you from your classes today then."  
  
He smiled, and left. 


	11. Chapter 11

Ahh, there's beginning to be too many people reviewing for me to give you all personal attention. I mean, who wants half a page of review response? I know that annoys the hell out of me when I'm reading...... But then again, it's not like I'm complaining about the reviews. ;-)  
  
Whew, sorry about the delay, but district orchestra was awesome! First chair second clarinet baby, I'm going to regionals!  
  
****************  
  
Hermione awoke to a blinding headache, and slicing pain in her neck.  
  
Groggily she opened her eyes, and jumped when she felt a slight pressure on her right hand.  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
Hermione's eyes grew wide as she sat up, panic stretched between her brown irises.  
  
"Who are you? Where am I?"  
  
Hermione registered the total look of shock on the face of the boy that was sitting next to her.  
  
"You.......you don't know who I am?  
  
Hermione slowly shook her head, and noticing that he still held her hand tightly in his, swiftly snatched it away.  
  
"No, I do not. Would you be so kind as to tell me where I am?"  
  
The boy's pained expression flickered, and was replaced by polite indifference.  
  
"You are in the Hogwarts infirmary."  
  
Hermione blinked.  
  
"Hogwarts? What a silly name. What does it mean?"  
  
The boy stood up, and ran his hand through his hair solemnly.  
  
"I'll go get Madam Winsfill."  
  
"Wait!"  
  
Hermione shouted after the boy's retreating back.  
  
"Why am I here, in a hospital?" The boy sighed, and turned.  
  
"You were attacked, and your throat was nearly slit. Magic in the blade that pierced your skin has prevented the wound from healing by magic, so it looks as though you'll have to do it the muggle way."  
  
He said this with a pinched look about his face.  
  
In her bed, Hermione's mind raced as she gingerly touched her heavily- wrapped neck. Magic? But wait, there wasn't any such thing, was there? And muggle? Was it a term for the extremely sick whose body couldn't heal itself?  
  
"I have another question."  
  
The boy stopped, and raised his eyebrows hopefully.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Why was I attacked? And by who?"  
  
The boy's expression plummeted, and he replied in an expressionless monotone.  
  
"You were attacked by a girl named Victoria. She has been expelled."  
  
He turned once again to leave.  
  
"Stop! You still haven't told me why!"  
  
The boy paused at the doorway, his hand resting lightly on the wood.  
  
"She was jealous of you, I suppose."  
  
"Jealous? Why?"  
  
The boy stared at Hermione's hands.  
  
"I shall return with Madam Winsfill"  
  
After he left, Hermione's gaze fell down to her hands, as if she could feel the boy's gaze still upon them. There was a ring on her right hand. It was a beautiful ring! Clearly it was a prized family heirloom........  
  
Gently she caressed it, and admired the details.  
  
"H and A......what does that stand for? I know.......H.........Her......Hermy.........Hermione! That must be my name. But what is the A for? Perhaps it's my last name's initial........" Hermione furrowed her brow, and attempted to massage her now throbbing head.  
  
Suddenly, her mind was flooded with a flash of images.  
  
A little girl with rather large front teeth was reading a book by the fireplace. Outside, the delighted screams of the neighborhood children could be heard as they frolicked outside in the newly-fallen snow. They were calling for her to come out, but she couldn't! She simply had to read this, she was right at the good part!  
  
A boy with black hair, and a redhead! Both were staring at her, mouths open, mocking as she walked by. The Hermione in her mind was crying, her face tear-stained as she dashed by.  
  
And that boy! The one who she'd woken up to. He was in her mind also, laughing and gently taking her hand. There was a mischievous twinkle in those blue eyes...  
  
"Miss Granger!"  
  
Hermione's images came to an abrupt stop, and she whipped her head around.  
  
"Y-you m-mean me?"  
  
A maternal, plump looking women with graying hair scuttled over to her bedside, and took Hermione's face in both of her wrinkled hands.  
  
"It's not true! Tell me child, what is your name?"  
  
Hermione's eyes strayed to the boy, who was standing just inside the doorway, head bowed, and determinedly not looking at her. She whipped her gaze back to the woman.  
  
"I-I think it's H-Hermione."  
  
The woman, who Hermione assumed was Madam Winsfill, visibly sighed.  
  
"Do you know where you are?" She asked gently.  
  
"H-Hogwarts."  
  
Madam Winsfill let go of her, and turned to the boy.  
  
"I think you were overreacting, Albus, she seems-"  
  
"But only because he told me." Hermione pointed at Albus.  
  
There was silence.  
  
"Do you know what Hogwarts is?" Hermione bit her lip.  
  
"A hospital?"  
  
Madam Winsfill shot an anxious look at Albus.  
  
"Do you know what you are?"  
  
Hermione grinned.  
  
"What do you mean, 'know what I am?'"  
  
The old woman straightened her spectacles, and turned to Albus.  
  
"Albus dear, run along and fetch the headmaster, won't you?"  
  
The boy nodded, and was gone.  
  
Hermione looked anxiously up at the matriarch.  
  
"Please, can you tell me what's going on?"  
  
Madam Winsfill sighed.  
  
"Do you have any recollection of who you are? Any memories at all?"  
  
Hermione shook her head.  
  
"I do have flashes, though. I remember the boy, Al-Albase."  
  
"Albus dear, Albus." The nurse gently patted her hands. "Now, on to more important matters. We can deal with your memory loss in due time........ Let me check that wound of yours."  
  
Hermione straightened her head the best she could as the nurse began to slowly and carefully unwrap the bandage.  
  
"That's odd," She murmured, as she rolled the white linen as it came off. "Very odd......"  
  
"What's odd?" Hermione asked, and the nurse swiftly unwrapped the entire bandage.  
  
Madam Winsfill put a hand up to Hermione's neck, and Hermione instantly winced, expecting pain.  
  
But the nurse's hand felt cool and soothing to her skin, easing the ache that she felt. Madam Winsfill drew it away slowly, and rubbed her hand.  
  
"Well Miss Granger, it appears that overnight your wound has healed itself. Quite extraordinary."  
  
As these words were said, Albus reappeared with Headmaster Fortesque in tow. The old man was bent over the nearest chair, panting and fighting for breath.  
  
"Where's the fire?" He wheezed, chancing a look a Hermione. His eyes widened in surprise.  
  
"Goodness! Your neck looks impeccable, Miss Granger."  
  
The boy, Albus they said he was called, also looked astounded, and peered at the spot where the wound was.  
  
"Amazing, all that's left is a crescent shaped scar......."  
  
Scar?  
  
At this word, another tidal pool of memories hit Hermione's brain.  
  
A bushy-haired eleven-year-old was standing in the doorway of a train compartment, gaping slightly at the black-haired boy in front of her.  
  
"You're Harry Potter, I've read all about you." She exclaimed, her eyes brushing the top of the boy's head.  
  
"Hermione dear, are you alright?"  
  
Hermione's mind was brought back to Earth with an unpleasant bump. All three of them were staring at her.  
  
"F-Fine, just h-had another memory........"  
  
Madam Winsfill looked positively thrilled.  
  
"What triggered it?"  
  
"He said 'scar', I think that was it."  
  
"Scar? Well, it must obviously mean something to you dear, perhaps a childhood accident? It doesn't ring any bells for me....."  
  
Albus and the headmaster shook their heads in agreement.  
  
Madam Winsfill stood up, and immediately tried to look busy and industrious.  
  
"Right, well, she seems fine now, the wound is healed, and her memory is coming back. I see no reason as to why she shouldn't be allowed to return to a somewhat normal schedule. No classes yet, she needs to ease her way back in."  
  
She turned to Albus.  
  
"I'm putting you in charge of her welfare. The rest of the students are not to know what has happened, and they shouldn't be around her. Lord knows she gets enough attention as it is, seeing as how she got here in the first place-"  
  
"Get where when? Why do I get more attention?"  
  
The headmaster gazed down at Hermione with pity.  
  
"It'll all make sense in due time, my dear."  
  
Hermione mustered up an honest smile, and allowed herself to be escorted out of the infirmary.  
  
*****************  
  
"So, it's Alloggiamenti dell'ospite, right?"  
  
Jenny the house-elf smiled as Hermione gave her newly-rediscovered wand a tentative wave.  
  
"Yes miss, 'tis all you have to do. Go ahead and try, Jenny must make sure you can do it before I leave you."  
  
Hermione bit her lip and waved her wand through the air, giving her wrist a diagonal flick, just as Albus had showed her.  
  
"Alloggiamenti dell'ospite!"  
  
Hermione beamed as a doorway appeared in the stone wall.  
  
"Does miss remember the other basic spells?"  
  
The house elf gestured to a piece of paper that was lying innocently on Hermione's night table. Albus had written there basic spells for Hermione to learn, along with illustrations on proper wand technique.  
  
"I think so, let me try this one.....Lumos!" The end of her wand lit.  
  
"Jenny, I think I got it!"  
  
Jenny grinned at her.  
  
"Jenny is glad, miss. Now, I must take you to the common room where sir Albus is waiting for you."  
  
Hermione nodded, and awkardly walked through the archway with the elf.  
  
"Now miss, close it."  
  
Hermione uttered the spell, and the doorway vanished.  
  
"Ahem."  
  
Hermione's head whipped around as Margaret and Emily stood in the 6th years' dormitory.  
  
"Good morning," Hermione said, smiling and giving them a small curtsy. "I hope I find you well?"  
  
The two girls looked aghast, and huddled closer to each other.  
  
"Well, I must be going......" Hermione trailed off.  
  
Jenny tugged her dress.  
  
"Yes, I'm coming." She turned to the girls. "Goodbye."  
  
The pair emerged through the dormitory doors and into the common room. There were a few scattered people leafing through last-minute homework, but other than that the comfy room was empty. Albus stood by the fireplace, one elbow over the mantle.  
  
"Ah, there is milady."  
  
He bent down comically, and gave a flourished bow. Hermione didn't acknowledge the attempt, but merely gave him a stony look.  
  
Albus' face fell, and with a quiet "follow me then", they were on their way through the castle.  
  
Hermione's thoughts would not keep quiet.  
  
Who did this boy think he was anyway? Always acting........strange. Almost like we were good friends or something....... And my attack certainly sends him into an odd mood every time it's mentioned......  
  
"We're here."  
  
Hermione looked up as they approached two large stone gargoyles.  
  
"Why lookie here, it's the Albus boy."  
  
Hermione jumped as one of the gargoyles stretched its wings and stared at Albus.  
  
"What are you doing here, it's a Saturday." Questioned the other.  
  
Albus blew a stray strand of hair out of his face.  
  
"You know of the arrangements."  
  
The first gargoyle rolled his eyes, and opened the door to the faculty room.  
  
Albus turned to Hermione.  
  
"You are to come here for your meals and recreation time, though you are still rooming in the Gryffindor tower."  
  
Hermione wrinkled her nose.  
  
"Fine."  
  
Albus gently put his hand under her elbow.  
  
"Let me show you in."  
  
Hermione allowed Albus to lead her inside the cozily-furnished longue. It was not much different than a house common room, except that the colors and mascots of every house were present, rather than just one.  
  
"Professor Alkiema."  
  
Albus nodded at the man who sat in a black armchair, reading a newspaper and sipping from his cup.  
  
"Good morning Albus. Is this her?"  
  
The man's golden hair was in soft, almost boyish curls, and his vividly green eyes were surveying her with mild interest.  
  
Albus nodded.  
  
"Good. I'm Professor Alkiema, Hermione, I teach Potions here."  
  
The man extended his hand, but Hermione found she couldn't return the favor.  
  
FLASH!  
  
A man with greasy black hair and cold eyes sneered down on Hermione.  
  
"10 points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for being an insufferable know-it- all."  
  
FLASH!  
  
"I wonder if he's died or something?"  
  
A redhead looked anxiously over towards the worn figure of a man, lying on the train seat. His tattered suitcase lay beneath him, bearing the initials 'R' and 'L'.  
  
"Werewolf."  
  
Albus stared in shock as Hermione gazed at the professor with glazed eyes. Professor Alkiema's face had frozen.  
  
"What did you call me?" He whispered, the hand holding the mug visibly shaking.  
  
"Professor, forgive her, the smallest things and even people send her into memory flashes. She probably just had one now. It doesn't mean anything."  
  
Professor Alkiema didn't respond, he merely set down his mug on the table, for fear of breaking it. The newspaper he set down also.  
  
"I'll....... be going now."  
  
Albus looked from the professor to Hermione, as if he really didn't want to do this. Hermione's eyes drifted to the newspaper headline, "GRINDEWALD'S BAND STRIKES AGAIN; MENACE IN OUR SOCIETY!" The headline was topped by a photo of seven scowling teenagers, all of whom were making rude gestures towards the reader.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"I'll be fine, Albus. Thank you for your help."  
  
Casting what she hoped was a genuine smile at the two men, Hermione went over to a couch and sat down on it, pulling out one of the books Albus had given to her to study.  
  
Albus looked once more to Professor Alkiema, and then left.  
  
"Hermione, isn't it?" The professor asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Professor Alkiema went over to his previous chair and sat down.  
  
"A few moments ago, when you had your memory, what was it of?"  
  
Hermione racked her brains.  
  
"My potions master from my time, and another man. He looked so much like you.........he was...... he was...... I mean, there was a w-werewolf."  
  
Professor Alkiema looked stricken.  
  
"What's wrong, Professor?"  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"Nothing. Dear, can you tell me, you seem to have known a werewolf back in your time. Can you remember how they were treated? Were they cured, perhaps?"  
  
Hermione thought about it.  
  
"T-they weren't exactly appreciated by society I think.......it's hard for them to get jobs and all."  
  
"But they weren't hunted down? Weren't captured?"  
  
Hermione blinked.  
  
"Heavens no."  
  
The potions master took another drink. She cocked her head.  
  
"Why?"  
  
Professor Alkiema coughed into his mug.  
  
"Erm, no reason. I'm just very interested in equal rights for all part- humans, and I was wondering if things had changed at all from this period to yours."  
  
Hermione smiled.  
  
"Oh, well, no. I suppose not. Then again, how are part-humans treated now? I'm also very interested in equal rights......."  
  
"Ahem, am I.......interrupting anything?"  
  
Both Hermione and the Professor snapped their heads around as a new, menacing voice joined their conversation.  
  
Professor Alkiema immediately stood.  
  
"Ah, Professor Malfoy." 


	12. Chapter 12

Um.... I know the tomatoes are going to come, but that's alright, I could use a salad. Sorry it took so long, school has been such a bugger! But don't worry, it's summer, and Silinde is here to beat the stories with a broom and get back on track. Enjoy the anticipated and updated chapter of 'The Cruel Ironies of Time'.  
  
Hermione stood so quickly she felt a muscle twitch in her left leg. Beside her, and more calmly, Professor Alkiema rose also, extending his hand.  
  
"No no, not interrupting at all. I hope I find you in good health?"  
  
Professor Malfoy regarded the outstretched hand in front of him with an unreadable look in his eyes. Slowly he took it, releasing very quickly.  
  
"Ah..., yes, very good health. Although you seemed to have bounced back from your little spell?"  
  
Alkiema flushed, and withdrew his hand.  
  
"Yes, I'm quite recovered, thank you very much." He looked over his shoulder and gestured at Hermione.  
  
"Have you met Hermione yet?"  
  
Malfoy raised an eyebrow.  
  
"So this is her?"  
  
Hermione stepped forward, and gave a small cursty. Something told her not to get too close to this man, though he seemed perfectly friendly. Malfoy inclined his head slightly towards her, and briskly turned to Alkiema once more.  
  
"The latest nuisance from Grindewald... have you heard?"  
  
Alkiema gave a wearied smile and held up the newspaper.  
  
"Robbed a small shop in Hogsmeade from what the article says..."  
  
"Blasted kids..." Malfoy cut in, "ah, a week in Azkaban will straighten THAT crew out." He turned. "You know, I just don't understand it; there's never trifling crimes like this in wizarding communities, because we know if we're caught it's straight off to Azkaban..."  
  
"But they're only teenagers, surely they wouldn't be sent there?"  
  
"Of course they would be sent there... I know you're not from this country, Alkiema, but even the most petty criminals are punished in Azkaban, it's just for a shorter span of time than a murderer, persay. That's why there's hardly any crime in the British wizarding community." The hint of pride was unmistakable. "But what gets me is Grindewald's band. They don't seem to care if they're caught. I've never seen anything like it. They sneer at the Ministry, begging to be punished."  
  
Malfoy shook his head.  
  
"However, on to more pressing matters! The ball, are you on the decorating committee or not? Helstreff has been murder towards me; can you imagine two hours of hanging frilly lace and bows with that horror?"  
  
Hermione shook her head.  
  
FLASH!  
  
"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully." The woman had a pained smile stretched sickeningly across her face. The pink frills on her cardigan gave Hermione the urge to regurgitate something...  
  
"Well, I don't," Hermione said bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about USING defensive spells."  
  
FLASH!  
  
Hermione breathed heavily as Alkiema's laughing brought her back to the present with an unpleasant bump.  
  
"I'd be too glad normally to help you, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline. You can try Valadmir, he's always up for a challenge, though I daresay old Helstreff might be too much for him."  
  
Malfoy wiggled his eyebrows, and sighed.  
  
Hermione's eyes darted side-to-side. It appeared as though the professors hadn't noticed her spell.  
  
"I suppose I'll have to try..."  
  
A cloak-swish later the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers had taken off down the corridor.  
  
Hermione finally roused herself.  
  
"Ball? What ball?"  
  
Alkiema laughed.  
  
"The end-of-year ball. I've been told it's held every year before end-of- term, to celebrate the passing of another successful school year." He winked. "I've been told Albus Dumbledore is a wonderful dancer."  
  
Hermione wrinkled her nose, and stuck out her tongue at the Professor. She gave Alkiema a funny look.  
  
"Why aren't you going, if the ball is for everyone?"  
  
Hermione noticed Alkiema had that uncomfortable look again.  
  
"I'll be out of town."  
  
The response made it clear that the subject was closed.  
  
Albus had his hands full.  
  
"Please, please, I'll do your arithmancy for two weeks!" The blonde girl was on her knees, a desperate look in her bright blue eyes.  
  
"Don't listen to her, she's not interested in YOU. Go with me, I'll show you things you've never seen before." A dark, raven-haired girl with jade eyes smiled seductively.  
  
Albus retreated until his back hit the wall. They kept coming.  
  
"My father is extremely rich, he'll buy you anything he wants!"  
  
"Golddigger!"  
  
The unlucky red-head was pushed aside by an even more eager brunette.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Albus saw Hermione emerge from the portrait hole. Hermione, sensing eyes on her body, saw Albus and the commotion, and grinned at the helpless look he gave her. Alright... she thought mentally. So he does seem to be a bit of a sweetie. Through her thoughts she saw him mouth uncomprehensible words. Hermione was puzzled until her eyes found the announcement sheet, which read about the ball.  
  
Quickly, Hermione strode over. Looks like it was up to her to rescue him.  
  
"Albus Dumbledore, will you be so kind as to accompany me to the end-of- year ball?"  
  
All chattering ceased as the girls stopped and stared at Hermione, some open-mouthed. Albus looked like his savior from heaven had scooped him up with inviting wings.  
  
His answer was quick and relieved.  
  
"YES."  
  
The remaining girls pouted, and lower lips trembling, most retreated into the shadows of the common room to sulk. Albus grinned as Hermione slipped her arm into his.  
  
"I thought you didn't like me."  
  
Hermione furrowed her brow.  
  
"You are still unfamiliar to me, but I know we must have been and are good friends, and friends help each other out of trouble. Like there. Those girls would have murdered you. Now problem solved."  
  
He looked at her sheepishly, thoughts forming in his mind. Hermione looked ravishing tonight, then again, didn't she always look lovely? To hold her once more...  
  
An exclamation brought him out of his dreams.  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
"What?"  
  
Hermione clawed at the finger with the ring.  
  
"Something just bit me... or, burned me." She examined her finger. "But it wasn't bad... it felt... I don't know." Hermione turned to look at Albus, who had bent down to fetch her ring from the floor.  
  
"Sorry," he said softly, and gently slid the ring back onto her finger.  
  
"Why, it wasn't your fault."  
  
Blushing furiously at his touch, Hermione looked down at her hand, and her eyes happened to brush his hand, happened to glaze at the ring the graced his finger. Then it all made sense.  
  
"Wait, where are you going?" Albus stood confused as Hermione pulled away.  
  
"Upstairs, I'm tired. I need to think. See you tomorrow." Not looking back for a reaction, Hermione bolted to the dormitory, and sprinted into her room. Holding her head in her hands and making sure the doorway was sealed, Hermione began to think.  
  
So that's why he had behaved so oddly to begin with. We were... together. Was it love? Hermione could feel a headache coming on, but she had to get this straight. And this ring I have he gave to me, I bet you anything... Hermione and Albus, that's what the initials stand for... I wonder what my parents would say, they've never been big on— --Parents? Wait... I...  
  
FLASH.  
  
"Absolutely not. You know how we feel about magic being used to solve problems. You'll get your braces like everyone else."  
  
"But mum, nobody else at Hogwarts wears braces! What would Harry and Ron say?"  
  
FLASH.  
  
"Ron? RON! Oh Ron, hurry up won't you? We'll miss the train!"  
  
"I'm coming, I'm coming! Isn't dad taking us?"  
  
"No, Mr. Weasley was called away to the Ministry—"  
  
FLASH.  
  
"—The Department of Mysteries. I bet that's where the weapon is. And he has Sirius, we have to go, now!"  
  
"Harry, don't you think we should check, to make sure he's not at Grimmauld Place?"  
  
"Hermione, Sirius is being tortured NO—"  
  
"—NOOOO! SIRIUS!"  
  
FLASH.  
  
As Hermione crumpled backwards onto her bed, her last image was that of a defeated boy with raven hair, struggling forward as Professor Alkiema held him back with tear-strained hands. 


	13. Chapter 13

I noticed especially that many have wondered who the 'raven-haired' boy was. Come on, we all know that. And remember, perception isn't always what it appears to be. Connect the quote to the scene, and draw your own conclusions. :)

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Hermione awoke to the intense rays of sun beating in her eyes. Painfully, she sat up and stretched her limbs, which were aching from her uncomfortable position. She squinted at the window, and with a start realized it was Monday.

"Oh no, what time is it?"

Hermione sprang up from her bed, and noticed that she still wore her previous dress from last night. Her hair was also lank and loose, and her face was slightly smudged.

"Oh... it'll have to do, I'm so late!"

She tore out of her quarters, down through the dormitory, and out the portrait hole. She fled down the corridors, praying she was heading in the right direction. (Albus's directions were exact, but she wasn't sure if she remembered them.) She skidded to a stop outside of the transfiguration classroom, and took a moment to steady her breathing. That done, she tentatively turned the handle.

"Ow!"

Hermione yelped as the doorknob turned bright red and scalding hot. Her exclamation drew the attention of the teacher inside, and unfortunately, she had to enter the classroom disheveled and with a throbbing hand.

She sat down next to Albus, already miserable and confused as to why the handle had burned her, therefore missing all the stares that were coming her way. In no mood to pay attention in class, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when the bell rang, and made up her mind to visit the infirmary for her burn.

"Hermione! Hey, Hermione!"

Hermione turned to see Albus skip-hopping to catch up with her wide gait.

"Yes, what is it?"

He seemed taken aback.

"I was... just... what happened?"

She wasn't sure if he was referring to her appearance, tardiness, or hand, but all she knew was she hadn't felt this miserable in ages, and the sight of this boy caring so sincerely about her caused her to lose her composure. She felt the tears well up in her eyes, and was trying to control herself. She didn't mind it at all when Albus gently seized her unburned hand.

"Come on, let's go get that burn taken care of. You probably didn't know about the tardy spell."

Hermione hiccupped and nodded, allowing herself to be led away. When would it all end? How would it all end?

The infirmary wasn't much better; it was true her hand was healed instantly, yet the sympathetic tuts from the nurse and references to incidents that Hermione had no idea about made her feel even more depressed.

On the walk back to the Gryffindor common room, she stopped in the middle of the corridor. Albus, still holding her hand, also stopped, looking back at her worriedly.

"What is it?"

"Albus, I'm not supposed to be here, am I?"

He looked uneasy. "Yes and no."

"Tell me what happened."

"Not here, Hermione."

"Yes, here."

"No, I–"

"NOW DAMNIT!"

Albus jumped, and Hermione immediately felt bad for yelling. He looked shaken, but continued.

"You attended this school in the future. You used a time-turner to take several classes at once. It broke, and sent you back in time, to us. You're where you're supposed to be, but not when. Then you got attacked, lost your memory, but you seem almost normal now."

Hermione had the feeling he was struggling to contain something.

"You and I, Albus. We were... together.""

He nodded slowly.

"Even though I'm from the future."

"Yes."

Hermione was feeling reckless, like she had nothing to lose. This in essence, would be slightly true.

"Albus, did you love me?"

His answer was immediate.

"I _do._"

Not needing further invitation, Hermione reached up and wrapped her arms around Albus's neck. The two were soon engrossed in a passionate embrace, both acting as though they would never hold the other again.

"Hermione... oh Hermione, I was so hurt..."

"It's ok, Albus, it's ok... I remember, I know... I love you too!"

The embrace became wilder, tighter. Both were going quite awhile without oxygen. Then a damn memory flash hit Hermione like a baby giant.

FLASH!

"Ssh, Hermione! This way..."

"Victor, no one's going to see!"

"That so eh?" The dark face grinned. "At least your headmaster seems to approve." Hermione looked over his shoulder to see an old man in the distance in brilliant purple robes, seemingly smiling to himself.

"I was I had Dumbledore as a headmaster..."

FLASH.

"Hermione? Hermione, what's wrong?"

Hermione's breathing was ragged, her pulse racing. She remembered everything now, EVERYTHING! Harry and Ron, the sorcerer's stone, the chamber of secrets, Sirius and Buckbeak, Umbridge, Voldemort, oh God, Voldemort...

"I... I..."

Her mind wouldn't slow down, wouldn't allow her to think. Panic was gripping every sensation. Professor Alkiema! Lupin! That was the connection! Her dreams of the sobbing raven-haired boy... the ministry!

Then she regained control, thought somewhat.

"I just remembered about the ball!" She tried to give a convincing grin. "I have nothing to wear, you know..."

Dumbledore gave a goofy grin back.

"Don't worry about that, Alkiema already said he'd be happy to help you. He's in charge of the wardrobe closet this year. It's a collection of old dress robes that we keep for people who need them. I'm... so happy you remembered about the ball. I... didn't think you would."

"Yes..."

Realizing they were in front of the portrait hole, Albus gently seized her hand and kissed it, his lips barely brushing the surface of her skin.

"Well, Until dinner then, my lovely Hermione."

Despite her unease, she returned the grin shakily.

"Yes, until then."

They parted ways.

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Sorry about that rather nasty update gap... I'll try to work on it. REVIEW!


	14. Chapter 14

The present-day Albus Dumbledore was pacing the corridors, his head bowed and brow furrowed in thought. Harry Potter kept his distance from behind a pillar, watching his hero and champion. What was the professor thinking about? Harry was so lost in his thoughts, that he gasped as a hand came down upon his shoulder.

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry quickly turned as Professor McGonagall pulled him from his hiding spot.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Harry, not intimidated for once, calmly brushed his shirt.

"I'm wondering what he's thinking professor. Dumbledore, that is. He told me…everything. Everything about him and Hermione."

McGonagall's expression changed.

"Did he now?"

"Yes, professor."

McGonagall kept her hand on his shoulder, clutching protectively now.

"Mr. Potter, I don't know what's going to happen."

Harry frowned and turned to look at McGonagall, never having heard the transfiguration teacher admit perplexion before.

"What do you mean professor?"  
She sighed.

"He didn't tell you his entire past, did he, Mr. Potter?"

Harry was slightly off-put, and confused.

"No, professor."

"Well, he…"

"What is it?"

McGonagall stopped, and dropped her hand from his shoulder, and it fell like a dead weight to her side.

"I can't put that burden on you. Not now."

Harry was immediately concerned.

"Burden? What burden?"

"No, Mr. Potter. Another day."

Harry quickly became incensed.

"So it's enough to deal with Voldemort daily, and it's alright to tell me I'll have to duel him to the death one day, but it's too much to tell me something about someone else's past that concerns one of my best friend's safety?"

McGonagall merely looked at him and sighed.

"Gone are the days when I could frighten you with points and detention, Harry."

Harry had never heard her tone before; deflated and…resigned.

"Please then, for my sake, spare me the tale now, this night. You'll know, I promise. But please, not tonight."

Alarmed at the sudden fatigue in her eyes, Harry dumbly nodded. McGonagall gave him a last parting glance, before briskly clipping off down the hall, her robes swishing behind her. She was once again the strict transfiguration teacher, prowling the halls to catch any student out for a night-time stroll.

Harry clutched the cool marble of the column, his head spinning. What possibly could have happened in Dumbledore's past that connected to Hermione, and upset everyone so much?

Setting his mind upon a goal in a very Hermione-ish fashion, Harry headed back to the dormitory for the night, one thought in his mind.

"Ron's going to kill me, but tomorrow, we go to the library."

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Back in the past, many were obsessing over the immediate future. That is, the ball was fast approaching! And poor Hermione found herself quite the popular individual.

A few of the girls were taking turns trying on Hermione's short skirt, giggling in the wickedness of its length and shrieking as if they were about to be caught, but most were content to sit by her side and listen.

"Oh how terrible it must have been, being sent here and attacked and losing your memory and—"

"Oh ENOUGH Maggie!"

A blonde-haired fifth year shushed another. She flipped her hair over her laced shoulder, and gestured to Hermione.

"Can't you see you're simply _boring_ her… and us." She turned in her seat to face Hermione, who was having her hair brushed by two different girls while everyone else sat around her in a semi-circle.

"So tell us Hermione," she began, smirking. "How is he?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Beg pardon?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Dumbledore. Albus. You know, the absolutely gorgeous bit of wizard you happen to be seeing." Her eyes gleamed wickedly. "Tell us all about it dearie."

The other girls immediately piped in.

"Oh yes!"  
"Quite!"

"Please Hermione, you must tell us!"

Hermione paused to reflect as the girls behind her lowered their hair ribbons to listen.

"Well, what is there to say? I mean… Albus… he's…. incredible!"

Hermione found herself blushing, not used to all the attention she was receiving, not to mention thinking about Albus.

"He's simply… everything a girl—witch, that is, could ever want. Kind, caring, considerate, funny, and… daring!" Hermione found herself giggling at the last word.

"Daring? Not Albus Dumbledore!" A red-head proclaimed.

"And don't forget handsome!" a young second-year piped up.

"Well of course there's that," Hermione agreed. "But there's so much more…"

The boisterous blonde from before cut in.

"MUCH more… and I think it's about this big…"

The girl held her hands apart and in front of her, and the girls immediately erupted into fanatical giggling at the naughty joke they had just shared.

Inside her mind, Hermione was surprised. The girls at her Hogwarts had never spoken so crudely! Here, it was running rampant the moment the girls were alone in the dormitory.

Hermione gazed around at the girls' faces, noticing the hungry look on each, the yearning to learn and to know, to experience.

Hermione also knew that this came from the 'Victorian' mind-set, which forbade any talk of sex, even education discussion between parents and children. Young women were left alone and in the dark with only each other to puzzle the mysteries of the opposite sex. It was an age of hypocrisy; where fornication was wild and sometimes expected, but never under any circumstances to be talked about. And unlucky was the uneducated woman who happened to become pregnant. Immediate disownment, and thrown from the household, with the father holding no blame whatsoever. What an age indeed to be a young teenager in.

"So, what's it like?"

Hermione was brought back from her thoughts to find a dozen faces staring at her with those hungry eyes. She knew what the unspoken question was.

"I don't know," she said simply, and many faces fell. "We honestly haven't been there." Hermione felt a surge of inspiration go through her, a need to set an example. "And I don't suppose we will."

A gasp went up from the surrounding group, and the blonde actually scowled. Feeling bold, Hermione continued.

"And I think that's enough on that topic, thank you very much. What I'm more interested in is this ball everyone talks about."

Their previous discussion forgotten in the twirl of a hair ribbon, Hermione smiled as she drowned in a sea of twitter and twatter about the annual end of year Hogwarts ball.

"We simply must take you to get a proper dress robe."

"Yes, we must! You have to look ravishing for the ball!"

"I think she'll definitely be ravished for sure that night..."

"Sophia!"

The blonde laughed at the shocked look on Hermione's face.

"Oh please, don't look at me like that. Besides, they're right you know. You need a proper dress robe, and I think we could fix something up for you out of the dress robe closet the school keeps. Who's in charge of it this year?"

"Professor Alkiema, I believe." Hermione volunteered.

"Right then, let's go get you a gown!"

Hermione stumbled as a dozen pair of hands pushed her up and began hustling her out the portrait hole.

"What, now??!? All of us?!?"

Sophia laughed again.

"Of course all of us! Of course now! What else have we to do?"

Hermione surrendered to their will, and was soon lost in the crowd of girls that was quickly making its way down the corridor. In fact, so engrossed were they in their current conversation about the ball, that they failed to notice the figure of Hermione slip to the back of the crowd, or the figure that was beckoning to her from behind a marble column.

"Psst, Hermione!"

"Albus!" Hermione squealed.

"Ssh, they'll hear you!"

Hermione giggled as Albus yanked her behind the column.

"And who might this man be, who kidnapped me from my new friends?"

"Rescued, more like. And I've decided I can't wait any longer."

She looked up into his face, smiling. "For what?"

"_This."_

Hermione gasped as he pushed her back against the marble wall, his hands coming up to caress her neck and the tight corset of her dress. She felt him press against her, felt _him_ pulsing hard beside her, and felt the bottom of her stomach drop with emotions she had never felt before. Not even with Victor. Never before had she been flustered, taken surprised, or found herself... longing for something.

Her eyes met his, brimming with lust, and his mouth immediately descended upon hers, crushing her lips in a passionate yet loving embrace. She felt his hands rove to the back of her neck, and one slid further down her stomach, further and further until it rested gently on the fabric of her dress above her thighs.

Before that moment, Hermione had never felt pure, unadulterated lust, or longing. She wanted him, she needed him...

"Albus..." she hissed.

Then just as soon as it began, she felt the pressure lighten, and he was taking her by the hand down the hallway once more.

"Come now, you don't want your 'new friends' wondering where you are now?"

Hermione could only nod, her head still light and fuzzy.

As she caught up with the girls at the robe closet, she numbly let them pick out dresses and hold them up to her, all the while they were asking Albus what he thought, delighted that a male would take such an interest, and even offer his own opinions!

The whole time, however, Hermione had only one thought running through her mind...

Who knew Albus was such a lusty young lad?

Yet... at the same time... something had felt odd. A presence--no, a few. Three? One was watching, almost with despair, while the other two watched the first, trying to imagine the first's pain.

Hermione shook her head.

Ridiculous.

She needed to have some more fun.

"What about the silver one?" She said, grabbing a gown at random.

The girls squealed and yanked it out, and the insessant chatter descended once more. This time, Hermione let herself drown in it.

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Back in the present, Dumbledore felt a tear roll down his cheek at the image of the couple that danced in front of him, yet only existing in his mind.

"Hermione... it does not do to dwell on dreams..."

The old headmaster turned back, back to the living. There was nothing he could do. After all, it was up to her.


	15. Chapter 15

A few notes:

If you like Phantom of the Opera, please check out my fic "Point of No Return". Shameless plug, I know, but the poor dear's getting lonely. Give her some company. There's a good reader.

Also, updates will be more frequent and occurring. I promise.

Thirdly, I like the number 3, and will continue to use it as my break between sections. Deal with it. :-P

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The night was young, but the fresh pains that ripped through Alkiema's body were as old and expected as the moon that hung in the sky. Alone in a judgmental and cruel society, the potions professor moaned aloud as the fur began to race up his spine and the fangs fought through his gums. He limped as fast as he could towards the Forbidden Forest. Howling at the moon in rage, he prayed with all his heart that tonight wouldn't be the night to finally run across a student; that tonight wouldn't be the night he was finally found out, and captured for the monster that he truly was.

The poor professor was so focused on his pain and misery, that he failed to notice the watchful eye of Professor Malfoy, leering from the North Tower, a dangerous glint in his steely eyes.

"I see, you're quite ill indeed, Alkiema."

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_One Month Later..._

Hermione laughed as she skipped down the hallways with two of her new best friends, Veronica and Mary. The Gryffindor girl was still upset over her predicament, but found herself thinking less and less of her true home with each passing day. She was catching up to her new classmates in grades, and it was rumored that the only student that yet remained above her was Albus Dumbledore himself. This of course caused Albus no end of teasing from many sides.

However, grades were the last thing on Hermione's mind. The ball was tonight, and the entire castle was in a hubbub and flurry of activity. Dropped into a world of chivalry, where women were expected to dress nice and act serene, Hermione felt her usual attitude concerning such things as balls flipping into an air of feminine excitement. The corsetted, tight black robes the girls usually had to wear would be exchanged for something with color; the perfect time to show off one's features such as hair, eyes, lips... Hermione shook her head at her new insight, frowning slightly. Had she always felt this way, or was it a production of her new environment?

"Hermione!"

Mary's voice was whining as Hermione's mind drifted away from their conversation.

"Hmm?"

Veronica rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, woman. Mary was just asking you what you're wearing tonight!"

Hermione blushed a shade of red.

"Oh, sorry."

Mary stuck out her tongue.

"So what _are_ you wearing?"

Hermione stuck her nose in the air and put on an air of convincing snootiness.

"Not telling."

The girls' jaws dropped.

"What?"

"Y-you can't do that!"

Hermione grinned devilishly.

"And why not?"

The two stopped their friend in the middle of the hallway, glaring.

"You and Albus are only the biggest couple to hit Hogwarts in like...forever!"

Hermione giggled at the mention of Albus' name. Had it only been an hour since she'd seen him?

Hermione stopped in front of the passage that led to the Gryffindor portrait hole, Veronica and Mary being of Ravenclaw.

"Sorry mates, no means no."

As Hermione rounded the corner, she grinned at the shell-shocked faces she was leaving behind her.

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you!"

Shouting out that last expletive, she turned and bumped into something hard.

"About bloody time. Honestly, you women and your incessant chattering."

Hermione punched Albus playfully on the arm.

"Now really, is that any way to speak to a lady?"

Albus snorted. "Lady my arse. Only yesterday you hexed Marcus Doogleworth for hissing something at a Hufflepuff first year."

Hermione sniffed indignantly. "Oh please, you know it was probably something derogatory against muggle-borns, or some such thing."

Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow. "I think it was because he's in Slytherin, and glares at you all the time."

Hermione shrugged carelessly. "Whatever the reason. Besides, Guenevere said the sores are healing quite nicely."

Dumbledore scooped her up off the ground and into his itching arms.

"So you've managed to keep in touch with him, how thoughtful."

Hermione grinned and grabbed hold of his neck.

"And don't you forget it."

Albus swooped in for a kiss, and pulled away quickly, leaving a pouty Hermione.

"Sorry love," he said, putting her down again, "but the ball's in three hours, and my lady needs to look her finest."

Before Hermione could protest, Albus picked her up once more, and slung her over his shoulder.

"ALBUS! What-"

"Ssh, don't be upset, you'll give yourself wrinkles."

Albus took off towards the portrait hole grinning manically as Hermione growled into his ear.

As Albus climbed into the portrait hole, the population gathered in the common room stared at the figure of Hermione draped over his shoulder. Most had gotten used to the fact that Albus and Hermione were very close, but in this day and age such physical contact was usually not encourage.

After being set down, Hermione brushed off her dress and smoothed her hair, a pink tinge still apparent in her cheeks.

"Right then, I'll see you here in three hours time."

Dumbledore bowed at the waist, his fingertips gentle brushing her lips.

"Til then, my lady."

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In the present, Albus Dumbledore just had a brain flash. Running with his robes flapping with dignity (a secret power given only to the headmaster), Dumbledore was panting by the time he reached his office. He grabbed his desk with both hands for support, and bent over to breathe.

The portraits eyed him with amusement.

"There now Dumbledore, what's the rush?"

"You."

One of the portraits cringed as Dumbledore aimed a wizened finger in its direction.

"Fortesque."

The former headmaster in question immediately zipped out of his portrait, leaving only an empty arm chair.

"DAMN FORTESQUE GET YOUR SORRY ACRYLIC ASS BACK HERE!"

The other portraits winced in confusion.

"I told you he's gone a bit round the twist."

Dumbledore turned to glare.

"You'll regret that, Phineas."

Phineas only stuck out his tongue. "Don't you have a sixteen year old boy to foolishing hover around?"

Dumbledore's wand was out in a nanosecond.

"Er, I mean, I think Harry's plotting something foolish that he can't possibly manage on his own because he's an young, pure, innocent boy who needs to be sheltered and protected. Hurry and save him from discovering anymore information that could be vital yet upsetting."

"Stupefy."

The portraits yelped as the band of red light shot towards the portrait, and struck the canvas. Phineas was spotted in a neighboring picture, arms around the next of a stout witch with a thick club for a wand. Phineas yelled when he realized his error, and stumbled backwards into another portrait, tripping over a candlestick.

"I'll say! Watch where you're going!"

Scowling, Phineas sulked back to his own portrait.

Albus began making all kinds of complicated wand movements over the empty portrait of Headmaster Fortesque, to the great protests of the other portraits.

"I say there Dumbledore, what are you doing?"

Dumbledore didn't even blink, but kept his eyes focused and his hand steady.

"The portraits are bound to serve me when asked, but Fortesque will hide and remain away until it's too late. This little charm acts like a permanent sticking charm; except he'll be stuck in his portrait once he returns, until I release him."

As he continued the spell with a wry grin, the other portraits continued to mumble among themselves, reminding each other never to get on Albus Dumbledore's bad side.

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	16. Chapter 16

Just a reminder: though alkiema wolfed out last chapter, that was a month ago. He's fresh due for another round.

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Hermione sat up in her room, contemplating the coming events. She knew exactly what she was going to wear, she only had to—wait. Hermione furrowed her brow as she realized that she had left her transfiguration in the library. Well, there was nothing to do but go get it.

Coming back from the library, Hermione trotted down the corridor, her books swinging side to side. Her thoughts strayed; so much so that she didn't notice the figure until she collided hard with it. Upon contact, the figure drew away, a startled cry escaping from the shadows. From her new vantage point on the floor, Hermione peered into the darkness.

"Professor Alkiema?"

He was leaning heavily against a pillar, his breathing labored. Hermione stepped closer.

"Professor, are you alright?"

He was pale, with trails of sweat snaking down his temples, and beads appearing on his forehead.

"Her-Hermione…"

He moved as if to back away from her, but Hermione refused to be put off.

"Professor, you look ill. You need the hospital wing!"

Alkiema's eyes widened in panic. "N-no!"

Suddenly it clicked for Hermione. The reason she had most of her memories about Lupin was because she had been near Alkiema! He had the same worn yet innocent air, with honey hair and puppy-dog brown eyes. And his soul; old for his world, tattered and tortured by the cruelities of a world that didn't understand it.

She stood directly in front of him.

"I'm going to help you. Where is your room?"

Alkiema seemed to have a hard time focusing on Hermione's face, but nonetheless he tried to push her away.

"Y-you d-don't nderstand… I'm dang—"

"Professor, stop this nonsense. You're ill and I'm going to help you." She grabbed his arm and shifted his weight to her, despite the fact he was beginning to fight back vehemently.

"Lean on me. I'll do a spell to find your quarters." Hermione attempted to utter the spell, but Alkiema was doing everything in his power to struggle against her.

"No! G-get away!"

"I'm really sorry about this, professor. Stupefy!"

Sick and weak, Alkiema shuddered as a final chill went through his body before succumbing to the jinx. Hermione whispered the 'point me' spell, and levitated Alkiema to drift along softly behind her.

Judging by Alkiema's state, it was _very_ close to the full moon. Hermione found herself led by the spell outside of a portrait of a very docile looking monk. After one glance of the two of them, he swung open to admit Hermione and Alkiema with no questions.

"If you don't come out soon or send me word, I'm off to the headmaster to get someone to come rescue you."

Hermione shrugged off the portrait's warning, but nodded to him nonetheless. She moved through the portrait, and stepped inside his chambers, pleasantly surprised at the warm décor that lay inside. She levitated him slowly to his bed, and then ran to the window to check on the moon.

Nearly there.

"Enervate."

Alkiema's eyes fluttered open, and they searched widely until they rested on Hermione.

"Hermione! What are you….get out of here!"

His eyes flashed in panic, and he made as if to rise off the bed. Hermione wasn't intimidated.

"Oh no you don't."

Hermione had her wand pointed at him. "You are staying put." Alkiema raised himself onto his elbows, his eyes now blazing with anger.

"No! You d-don't understand! I'm not sick, You're—"

"Professor, stop!"

Hermione had tears brimming in her eyes, memories of Remus Lupin's agonized screams tearing through her mind. It had been horrible watching him go through his transformation, but at least Remus had had a support system of friends and colleagues to watch over him. Alkiema had no one; he lived in fear of being found out every day of his life.

"Professor, please. I want to help you."

Alkiema groaned anew, too sick to take further notice of her presence. Hermione moved forward to wipe his face with a cloth. She bent down to him.

"It's alright…" she whispered. "I know you're not just sick."

His head turned sharply, and Hermione noticed his brown eyes were flashing a dangerous gold. He let a moan that sounded much like a dog's whine.

"And don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Hermione wiped his brow a final time before binding him to his bed with her wand. The tears flowed unchecked as she checked the bonds, knowing that it was the only way to try to keep him and herself safe. She cast a silencing charm on the door, just as Alkiema let out a long, agonizing scream that started in his tortured voice, then twisted to into the guttoral howl of the wolf.

Hermione squeezed the tears out of her eyes and sobbed as she heard his human bones twist and snap to give way to the wolf appendages. Alkiema's tortured yells and moans seemed to slice the air as he twisted and writhed in his bed.

It was over a minute later.

What followed was a few seconds of burning silence.

Hermione turned slowly, and saw the wolf's thirsty gaze linger on her young frame. Choking back a sob, Hermione grabbed the doorknob and whipped out of the room, gasping out a 'colloportus!' just as the werewolf snapped through her bonds, his body thudding into the door where Hermione had been moments earlier.

Hermione sank down onto the floor, the quiet left in the wake of her silencing charm deafening. She could only imagine the chaos that was going on in the room as Alkiema destroyed all of his own possessions; hopefully nothing that a good 'reparo' couldn't fix. She was just thankful his room had no windows, so he couldn't possibly escape.

She conjured up a pillow and a blanket, preparing herself for a rough night, and an even rougher morning. Bullocks to the ball.

Yet just as she was about to settle down, an announcement came surging through the school. The headmaster's voice was tense, but steady.

"All students are to report to their common rooms immediately. The ball has been post-phoned. This is NOT an request."

Hermione started, not sure what to do. She rationalized that Alkiema would make it; he would just wake up very sick, and probably very angry with Hermione. Yet if she stayed, everyone would no doubt be worried about her. On the same tact, everyone would probably notice Professor Alkiema was also missing. Hermione made her decision.

She muttered an imperturbable charm on Alkiema's door, and then took off through the corridor; her first stop was the headmaster's office. She skidded in front of the two stone gargoyles, who glared down at her impassively. She didn't know the password.

"Please, I need to speak with the headmaster!"

Nothing.

"Urgh! Come on! Damn it!" Hermione stubbed her toe as she kicked the stone wall in frustration. There was only one way to have at it.

Hermione pushed herself up against the stone wall, and yelled.

"HEADMASTER? HELLO!!!! HEADMASTER FORTESQUE I HAVE SOMETHING I NEED TO TELL YOU!"

Hermione had paused for a giant breath, and was about to continue her verbal assault of the stone when it slid open quickly in front of her. Hermione coughed out her excess air.

"Oh… uh, hello there headmaster."

The headmaster, a small man who usually smiled easily, was not amused.

"Miss Granger, did you not hear the announcement? To your dormitory immediately!"

Hermione pleaded with him.

"Yes professor, immediately, but first I've come to tell that Professor Alkiema isn't feeling well; he's gone home to regain his health."

It was at that moment Hermione noticed movement behind the headmaster, followed by a sarcasic 'tut'.

"Oh…Professor Malfoy. I didn't see you there."

The man merely nodded politely, his smile certainly not reaching his eyes. The headmaster looked down at Hermione through his spectacles.

"Indeed. Professor Malfoy here has just alerted me to Professor Alkiema's reoccurring 'sickness'. If that's all Miss Granger you need to be returning to your dorm immediately."

Hermione's eyes darted between the two, a horrifying sinking sensation in her stomach.

"Headmaster please, if I could just have a word."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, but shrugged and continued out of the headmaster's office. Fortesque glanced at Hermione skeptically, but waved her up into his office.

Hermione did not waste time comparing the office to Dumb—Albus'.

"Professor, what's going on?"

The headmaster looked affronted.

"That is not for students to know."

Hermione was not satisfied.

"How are we supposed to be prepared and defend ourselves if you won't tell us what's going on? Isn't that dangerous?"

Fortesque had a look of pity in his eyes.

"I feel it's more dangerous for children to lose their childhood. I'm only trying to protect you."

Hermione bit her lip, tasting blood. So this is where the present-day Dumbledore got his cock-and-bull theories about protecting the so-called innocent. Hermione felt herself freeze at the negative thought, reminding herself the Dumbledore who was slighting Harry was the same one she was currently in a relationship with. Hermione shook her head.

"I'm guessing it has to do with Grindewald. Fine. Whatever. Headmaster, I'm here to talk about Professor Alkiema, he—"

"I think it best if you weren't to grow too close to Professor Alkiema, Hermione." Hermione stopped, shocked at the tone in his voice.

"Professor Malfoy has brought certain concerns to me, which will be investigated. Now," he began loudly, seeing Hermione's mouth begin to open in protest. "the ball has been postphoned due to threats upon the school made by Grindewald's band. This is none of your concern. Now please go back to your common room. I daresay Albus is wondering where you are."

Hermione clenched her teeth as she was unceremoniously pushed out of the office and out into the corridor. Manipulative old bastard.

She grudgingly headed back to Gryffindor tower, knowing that this was far from over.

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Albus paced the common room, as everyone in Gryffindor tower watched.

"Albus mate, stop worrying yourself. She's probably in the staff room or something."

"Yeah," piped in another, "or with the headmaster. You know that ring of yours would tell you if something was wrong."

Albus fingered his own ring in response. It was true; he had added a bewitchment to the rings that alerted him when she was in some kind of trouble. Albus had just leaned over the fireplace to gaze into the flames when the ring burned bright red on his finger.

"Ow!"

Albus cursed, immediately sticking the appendage in his mouth. He really should put a pain-reducing spell on it. Having confirmation something was wrong, he immediately rushed the portrait hole, only to yell in frustration as it threw him back towards the couch.

"Sorry Albus, I believe Professor Racknear has put wards on all the portrait holes."

Albus clenched his fists.

"Then how is she supposed to get back in?"

No one had an answer.

Meanwhile, his ring still burned.

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Instead of going back to the common room, Hermione headed straight for the owlery. She selected a brown screech owl, and quickly scribbled a note to Albus.

_Albus,_

_I'm in the faculty lounge with some of the teachers. There wasn't time to get me back to Gryffindor. I'm fine._

_Love,_

_Hermione._

Dotting the i's and crossing the t's, Hermione tied it to the owl's leg and it flew off, heading straight for Gryffindor tower. She then immediately whipped around and headed straight for Alkiema's room.

Hermione moved carefully, wishing sorely she had Harry's cloak or the Maruader's Map to ease her sneaking. While she moved, she had time to dwell on what had just happened. Well then, it seemed as if Malfoy suspected Alkiema's condition. That was incredibly bad news; especially if he had just told the headmaster his suspicions. Hermione felt anger boil up inside her at the site of his smirking face, no longer seeing the difference between him and Lucius and Draco. Her temper wasn't helped any when she spotted Malfoy also sneaking in the direction of Alkiema's room ahead of her. She didn't think, merely reacted.

"Obliviate!"

Malfoy crumpled to the ground, and Hermione rushed to stand over him.

"Right. Serves you for being an arrogant ass."

She cast a few more jinxes, making it appear as though he had been attacked by a number of people

"With any luck, they'll think Grindewald's got you, and you won't know any different."

She levitated his body, and didn't stop until they were outside the castle. Hermione stayed in the grounds and levitated his body to the edge, and dumped it unceremiously into the mud.

"Bastard."

She turned and made her way back to Alkiema's. The monk seemed very relieved when he saw her.

"Oh good, you're back. You didn't tell anyone did you?" He looked anxious.

"Of course not. I know the ramifications."

He nodded his head quickly, making him appear like a bobble-head.

"Yes, yes, you're a clever girl. Staying the night then?"

Hermione pondered.

"Yes, I suppose. Do you know how long he's in transformation?"

The monk shrugged.

"Depends. Sometimes all night, other times only an hour or so. Last month was rough; he was running around in the forest all night. I was quite worried about him. If you like, I could jump into my portrait in his room and let you know where he is."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, would you do that please?"

"One moment."

Hermione waited impatiently.

"He's done."

Hermione moved to rush through the portrait.

"Wait! Be careful! He's still very tempermental!"

Hermione brushed the old monk off for the second time that night, hurrying to undo all of the charms she had set in place. The door swung open with such force at her determination that it banged off the wall.

She rushed into the room, and saw that Alkiema lay in the middle of the floor sprawled, on his back. Everything in the room was torn and destroyed; even his robes had been reduced to tatters while he transformed. Luckily for Hermione, a bit of fabric covered all the important areas. She quickly muttered a spell to robe him, then quickly set about reparing the room. As soon as she mended his bed, she ran over to him, turning him over so he was on his back.

Deep gouges ran all over his body; from his ear to his neck, down along his side and slashing up his leg. It appeared that since he had nothing to attack, he had gouged and bit himself. Hermione inwardly was glad he was unconscious.

She levitated him to the bed, then conjured potions equipment to being working on healing spells. WHY hadn't she memorized the wolfsbane potion? Nothing was more horrible than watching him suffer, especially when she knew there was a cure.

Hermione's eyes rested on his face, tortured-looking even in his sleep. She sat down on the bed next to him, and brushed the hair out of his eyes. Unconsciously, she wondered how old he was. Though his face was lined prematurely, he looked like he could have been only a few years out of Hogwarts himself. The poor man.

Hermione continued conjuring the necessary equipment, and spent the next two hours administering potions, tending to his wounds, and repairing the room. The stroke of midnight saw her finish. As she wiped her forehead with her own cloth, she heard cough behind her.

Whipping around, she started to breathe again when she saw it was only the portrait of the monk.

"Yes?"

Hermione conjured pillows and blankets, and settled herself by Alkiema's bed, underneath the portrait.

"You're a remarkable young lady. I'm just wondering why you care so much. Every person in this castle would turn him over to the ministry to be exterminated. But you don't."

Hermione cocked her head.

"I could ask you the same question. I don't know of many portraits who cared for their tenants like you, let alone keep their darkest secrets."

The round man smiled down on Hermione's form.

"Yes, well, I suppose we both have our reasons."

Hermione nodded at this, her gaze going back to Alkiema, who had fallen into a deep sleep after Hermione had force-fed him the sleeping potion while he was unconscious.

"How do you think he will react when he sees me here?"

The monk shrugged, sending his belly-fat wiggling.

"Hard to tell. But don't worry, when he does, I'll be here to help."

Hermione smiled.

"Thanks."

"Yes. Well, you've done enough tonight. Why don't you get some rest here, I'll keep watch over things between the two portraits. Especially since I know Malfoy was skulking around..."

Hermione laughed at the venom in his voice. She yawned.

"Well... I've taken care of him tonight..."

"There will be tomorrow..." the portrait muttered darkly, but Hermione had already closed her eyes.

Her eyes swam of visions of Alkiema, his deep eyes locking fast with hers, begging for her.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, everyone had felt relieved by Hermione's letter, but Albus still felt unbalanced. Something wasn't right.

The ring that was burning with a deep, red passion on his finger knew that much.

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Read and review! And please, if you're phantom of the opera fiend, check out 'point of no return', I'm pretty proud of that fic thus far as well. Until next time!


	17. Chapter 17

The next morning saw Albus feeling just as anxious as he had been the previous evening. He had removed the ring during the course of the night; the incessant tingling from the metal had kept him from sleep.

He ran a hand through his hair to haphazardly comb it, leaping out of his bed and quickly throwing on a robe. Albus flew down the stairs from the boy's dormitory, and raced out the portrait hole, flying down the corridor. He ignored the mutters and glares thrown his way as he darted past his classmates, only one objective clear in his mind.

Get to Hermione.

Albus skidded to a stop outside of the staff-room. The stone gargoyles rolled their eyes, and glared down at him in irritation.

"You again?"

Albus scowled.

"Let me in!"

The one gargoyle gave an impatient 'tut'.

"You know you're not allowed in unless you have business pertaining to the girl."

Albus clenched his fists, trying to keep his anger in check.

"And it does. She's in there. She came here last night after the headmaster's announcement."

The stone beings looked at each other quizzically before turning back to face Albus.

"No one's been in here, sunny-jim. Last night after the announcement the teacher's went to Fortesque's office. That is, after they had put charms on the house portrait holes, which I see must have been rescinded earlier this morning."

Albus stood there for a moment, quite confused.

"The girl hasn't been here."

Albus nodded, then turned and began to walk slowly away.

"You're welcome!" the gargoyle called after him, in an irritated voice. Albus didn't hear it, however, because his mind was working furiously.

Where was Hermione? And more importantly, who had forged that note? After all, in Albus' noble mind Hermione would _never_ lie to him.

Wait! What if she had been kidnapped by Grindewald? That would be the reason why the headmaster didn't say anything to the students; he wanted to keep the castle from panicking! What a wise headmaster Fortesque was…

Right then. Dumbledore took off in the opposite direction, towards the headmaster's office. Hopefully his need would be great enough that the stone guardians would grant him the access he needed.

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The missing Hermione in question was beginning to stir slightly, and she groaned as she felt the knots in her neck and back that came as a result of sleeping against Alkiema's door all night. Hermione jolted. Professor Alkiema!

Adrenaline shot through her body, waking her more effectively than any muggle coffee she would ever find.

Hermione blanched as she saw that she was no longer in Alkiema's bedroom; rather, she was in the room directly outside of it.

"Founders and their ridiculous, sexist charms…"

As if suddenly remembering her purpose, Hermione rushed to stand up in front of the portrait, and vainly tried to brush out the wrinkles in her dress.

"Excuse me, sir?"

The monk started as Hermione rapped on the bottom of his frame.

"Hmm? What? Oh… it's you."

Hermione leaned in anxiously.

"How is he?"

He didn't answer, merely walked out of the picture and into what Hermione hoped was his frame in Alkiema's room. It was a tense five minutes, in which Hermione cringed as she heard shouting coming from behind the door.

A few moments later, the monk returned, looking flustered and red-faced.

"He's awake," he huffed, "but he's not very happy. He demands that you take the charms off his door, and says that you have a lot of explaining to do."

Hermione set her jaw and squared her shoulders, undoing the charms as she opened his door. Alkiema was attempting to sit up on the edge of his bed, but was still proving too weak to do so. He looked up as Hermione entered, and out of the corner of his eyes saw the monk sliding smoothly back into his portrait.

He pointed a shaking finger at the portrait.

"You. Out."

The monk looked highly affronted.

"But I told her I'd hel—"

"OUT!"

The monk disappeared in a flurry of robes, the fabric of the curtain in his portrait swishing from the wind of his departure.

Acting nonplussed, Hermione moved to light the room more properly, and she began to mutter a few cleaning spells to further the repair of the mostly cleaned room.

"Miss Granger…"

The voice was a low, dangerous growl, and Hermione felt a delicious tingle crawl up her spine. She grinned to herself, then forced her face into seriousness.

She whirled around, and still pretending to not notice his apparent anger, conjured her potions supplies and began to set up shop beside his bed. Taking the cloth from the night before, she reached out for his forehead, but was stopped as he grabbed her wrist roughly. Hermione flinched.

"You owe me an explanation, Miss Granger."

His eyes roved her form. His expression changed to disbelief.

"Did you _sleep_ here last night?"

Hermione wrenched her wrist out of his grasp, scowling, but mentally agreed that an explanation was warranted. She was also slightly unnerved, or was it exhilarated, that his eyes continued to linger. She brushed off his glances.

"First of all, you were incredibly ill last night, and more than likely would have transformed _in the corridor_ had I not brought you here; you were very, _very_ sick, so I stayed, trying to heal you as you went." She paused for a breath. "And, I'm sorry if my appearance bothers you so much, I didn't have much time for the powder room while I was watching over you! Evanesco Garmentia!"

Her robes twisted and changed to clean garments, and her hair flattened up and tied itself into a neat French braid.

Alkiema continued to glare at her.

"I didn't mean about what you did last night. That bit is obvious."

Hermione glared back, moving to add different ingredients to her potions. Alkiema's tone changed then, and he moved slowly, painfully, until he was sitting up in bed, facing Hermione.

"No, I mean, how did you _know?"  
_

Hermione didn't answer immediately, merely handed him a goblet of crimson potion.

"For the wounds and scarring."

Alkiema took it gratefully, but was still looking at her as if expecting an answer.

Hermione continued to brew, but talked while she worked.

"Back in my original time period, I knew this... man. He was my professor at one point."

Hermione paused to ring out the rag into her empty cauldron, and looked straight at Alkiema.

"I swear you look just like him."

She looked away, breaking the moment of intense concentration.

"His name was Remus, Remus Lupin. He was a hard-working man who barely got anything in return. No gave a rat's ass about him except his few friends."

Alkiema's eyes lowered.

Hermione handed him another goblet.

"For the internal damage. He worked hard with the Order and dumb--"

Hermione froze, not believing what she had almost given away. She inwardly cursed.

Alkiema stared into the amber contents.

"It sounded as though this was quite a remarkable man whom you admired. I'm flattered I remind you of him."

Hermione couldn't quite make out his tone, but continued to stir the contents of another cauldron.

"That's not quite it though. You see," Hermione started, attempting to control the quivering in her voice, "he was a werewolf."

To her surprise, Alkiema grinned.

"Ironically named, then."

Hermione smirked despite herself.

"Yes, I suppose so. He was bitten when he was very young by a notorious werewolf."

"A notorious werewolf? Aren't we all notorious?" He raised an eyebrow, confused.

"No!" Hermione slapped the rang down into the potion, splashing some of the contents.

Alkiema cocked his head at her.

"Sorry, there's just a slightly different mentality towards the whole subject in my time."

Alkiema nodded, not wanting to press the issue further.

"I wasn't young at all when I was bitten. Just out of Hogwarts, actually."

Hermioned nodded.

"That would be why you've managed to get a job then."

"Yes"

Hermione swept the potions ingredients into thin air as she finished up her work.

"Out of morbid curiousity, how long ago was that?"

"Was what?"

"When you graduated from Hogwarts?"

Alkiema's face reddened.

"I didn't really graduate; I took a year off to 'study abroad', or figure out how to live my new life. I took the N.E.W.T.s by owl, so technically I'm a graduate."

Hermione plopped herself down on the bed beside him.

"Alright then, so how long ago was that?"

Alkiema definitely wasn't looking at her now.

"Two years."

Hermione started.

"You mean to tell me that you're at most four or five years older than me?"

He nodded, a large blush creeping up his neck.

Hermione laughed.

"It's not funny!"

He had a bit of an angry edge to his voice now.

"No.. it's not like that!" Hermione fought to control herself.

"Then what?"

"It just... for the first time since I've been here, I feel like I have just shared a joke or something silly with one of my best friends back home."

Alkiema wrinkled his nose.

"Surely you have Mr. Dumbledore?"

Hermione punched his arm lightly.

"You're not that much older than us, so _Albus_ would do just fine."

He reached out and swiped her robe sleeve in retaliation.

"In that case, it would do you just fine to call me Conan. Conan Orion Alkiema."

Hermione looked dubious.

"And you said Lupin's name was ironic! 'Conan' means wolf in Celtic, you know."

Alkiema's face flushed.

"You're much too clever for your own good, you know. And I usually went by Orion; I prefered my middle name as it was."

Hermione smiled. "Orion, eh?"

Alkiema cleared his throat.

"Yes, well, anyway, it's wonderful to have someone to talk to." His manner loosened again. "I mean, I haven't been this free to talk since... well, since it happened. You're the only one alive who knows besides me."

Hermione propped up the pillows underneath him.

"And it will stay that way. I will continue to be your friend, help you through your transformations, and keep Malfoy and Fortesque off your trail. Which they are, you know."

Alkiema looked panicky.

"What?"

Hermione rushed to explain.

"I wouldn't worry about Malfoy, I hexed him so hard he's probably in MY timeline now." She laughed at the expression on Alkiema's face.

"Fortesque I'll have to be more creative. I like him as a person, but this prejudice thing is really turning me off to him."

"Excuse me? 'Turning you off'?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Making me not like him.

"Oh."

Hermione cleared her throat.

"Let's clean this mess up, shall we?"

"Let me help you."

Orion concentrated for a moment, until suddenly a wand came zooming from a corner of the room, having previously been covered in debris. Hermione nodded in approval.

"Wandless magic, one of my specialities," he explained.

Hermione grinned.

"Yes, I'd love some help."

With a waving sweep of their arms, the room whirled and spung back into a sense of normalcy. Orion swung his legs over the bed, intending to rise.

"Hermione, I feel almost normal; you must be quite the potions mistress. Usually I'm as helpless as a new-born the morning after."

Hermione blushed, her eyes lowering to the hem of her robes.

"Here, help me to my feet."

She moved to help him.

"Are you hungry?"

Orion furrowed his brow for a moment before looking up, slightly surprised.

"Actually, yes. I don't feel nauseus at all. In fact, why don't you wait outside for a moment while I make myself presentable?"

Trying to ignore the prodding voice remarking on just how good he looked _un_presentable, Hermione nodded. She walked outside, and sat down on a chair. The portrait of the monk glared down at her, scrutinizing.

"Am I allowed back in yet?"

Hermione shrugged, not paying much attention. She tried with all of her academic might to not imagine Alkie-Orion's, lean figure undressing just feet away from her.

Wait, what?

Hermione shook her head. She definitely shouldn't be having thoughts like _that! _As she waited, she contemplated everything that had taken place over the past twenty-four hours;

A lot.

Hermione put head in her hands to keep it from spinning. She had made a new friend, a dear friend, who---No. Hermione had to be careful. He was around her age, yes, but he was still her professor. She couldn't be openly casual about their friendship. Especially if she wanted to keep people (Malfoy and Fortesque) off of their tail.

And Albus...

She couldn't possibly keep her new friendship from him. No, there would have to be clear reason for their friendship.

Hermione looked up as the door opened and Orion appeared, dressed casually in deep maroon robes.

"Did you want to go to the Great Hall, Professor?"

"Orion, Hermione. And yes, I'd like to."

Hermione stood.

"Alright, but we'll have to speak to the headmaster to get our story straight."

Orion limped further out.

"I will take care of that, and tell you about it afterwards."

He conjured a cane, and gestured for himself and Hermione to move out into the corridor.

"It's really amazing, you know. I have never felt this back-to-normal after a transformation. This will make my story more believable, since everyone knows a werewolf takes two to three days to recover."

He winked at Hermione, who couldn't ignore the fluttering sensation appearing around her midriff.

"Now, I will pop off to Fortesque, then make my way to the Great Hall. You should get something to eat as well, but might I suggest stopping by Gryffindor tower first to calm the nerves of one Albus Dumbledore."

The little ballon that had been swelling inside of Hermione felt suddenly punctured.

"Oh...right. Well, see you then."

Orion shifted his weight on the cane, and lifted Hermione's right hand to his lips. Hermione fought to control her trembling as his lips lingered sensuously millimeters from actually touching her. This was very different than Albus' quick, dry pecks.

He searched her face with his eyes, the gleaming look mirroring gratitude, with another flicker of emotion.

"Thank you, Hermione. Due to your help, I just might survive this."

He smiled, dropping her hand gently, and turned to begin to walk to the headmaster's office. As his robes swished around the corner, Hermione could only nod.

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Review!


	18. Chapter 18

It has come to my attention that certain readers don't fancy the idea of a little wrench being thrown in Hermione and Dumbledore's relationship.

To said readers: Love is never simple, and life is full of complications and interruptions. I write about these compliacations; not wishful thinking and fairy-tales. There are plenty of pre-teen writers on for that.

And oh yeah, I don't really care if you approve or not.

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As fate would have it, a very irate and worried Albus collided full-on with a pensieve and thoughtful Professor Alkiema; both of whom were determined to see the headmaster.

Orion blanched slightly as Albus rammed into his frame, but smiled as the sixth year immediately began to apologize up and down the board.

"Professor! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you! Are you alright? I—"

"Albus, it's fine, fine." Orion shook his head, and picked up his cane which he had dropped in surprise. Albus eyed it curiously.

"Are you ill sir?"

"Recovering actually. Best if we're back on business." He made his tone purposely clipped; he really needed to see Fortesque.

Albus nodded, not wanting to stop for idle chatter. He had to see the headmaster immediately.

"Right sir."

Both attempted to move into the space in front of the portrait hole at the same time, almost resulting in another collision.

They looked at each other for a moment, confused, before Orion eyed Albus and leaned on the top of his cane, smiling.

"Here to see the headmaster, Mr. Dumbledore?"

"Yes," he replied distractedly, looking towards the portrait.

"As I am. However, let me save you some time, by telling you the Miss Granger is currently on her way to the Gryffindor, with the sole purpose of seeing you."

Albus had jerked when Alkiema had first mentioned Hermione, but upon hearing the she was looking for him, all other thoughts jerked from his mind.

"Right, I'll be off then." Albus whipped around to take off, robes flapping, (with dignity!) until he turned back to Alkiema at the last moment.

"Hermione, she was in the staff-room, with the staff, right?"

"Yes," Orion responded, immediate and casual. "we ran into her on the way to the headmaster's office, and deemed it safer to keep her there until now since Gryffindor tower was much further away."

Albus regarded Alkiema.

"Right, good then. I'll be off."

"Yes, see you at dinner!" Orion yelled after his retreating back, but Albus was already at the end of the corridor.

Orion shook his head, and turned to squarely face the portrait hole.

"Right. Waddlesforth."

The gargoyles swung open, and Orion threw his shoulders back and took a large breath before continuing up.

"Here we go."

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An equally irate Hermione was climbing out of the Gryffindor portrait hole, slightly miffed that Albus hadn't been there.

That was remedied a few seconds later.

"HERMIONE!"

Hermione couldn't but grin as Albus grinned at the sight of her, and she laughed as he picked her up in the air and whirled her around.

"I was so worried about you!"

Hermione tried to compose herself as Albus set her down.

"I sent word ahead, didn't you get my owl?"

Albus nodded.

"Well, yes, but…." He trailed off.

Hermione clapped her hands together.

"I'm ravis-I mean, famished."

Albus shot her an odd look.

"Beg pardon?"

Hermione grabbed his hand, swinging it side to side.

"You, me, Great Hall. Now."

He smiled warmly at her.

"But of course, my lady!"

As they glided down the corridor, Hermione couldn't help but feel relieved at settling back into a somewhat normal routine, especially after the excitement that post-phoned the ball. She expected that the topic of conversation flying around the hall would be nothing but how the girls must wait a few more precious months before 'letting their hair down' as McGonagall had once told Hermione's class in her old time.

A grin tugged at her lips. She found herself thinking about home less often; and when she did, it was hardly painful anymore.

The couple entered the hall, Hermione and Albus sliding into seats at the Gryffindor table. Hermione leaned over to her one friend, Jacqueline.

"So, everyone's in an uproar over the ball, I s'pose? Pity no one will know what I was going to wear…"

Hermione trailed off at the look on Jacqueline's face. She looked irritated, and mite… disgusted?

"Hermione, how can you think of the ball at a time like this?"

The confusion must have showed on her face, and Jacqueline's tone must have sounded alarming, for Albus immediately leaned in.

"Oh, sorry Jacqueline, haven't got around to telling her yet. I don't think so knows…"

Hermione whipped around.

"What? Know what?"

"About Professor Malfoy…" Jacqueline whispered, tapping the Daily Prophet with her fingers.

Hermione felt a small jolt of fear and adrenaline shoot through her body.

"Why, what happened?"

She was afraid her voice had risen an octave.

Jacqueline leaned in conspiratorially.

"He was found near the Forbidden Forest, with the bloomin' daylights hexed out of him. Poor bloke."

Hermione cleared her throat, and gave her best shot at a concerned face.

"Did he say who did it?"

"Well, that's the thing," Albus picked, looking at them both. "Can't remember a thing, can he? Must have been one powerful wizard to do a memory charm like that…he can't remember the past year or so!"

He lowered his voice further, and the two girls leaned in closer to hear.

"I hear rumors they think Grindewald is involved."

Jacqueline looked scandalized.

"No!"

"Yes!"

Albus leaned in closer to Jacqueline, since she was the one more interested in the conversation.

"I hear that Grindewald fancies himself a dark lord, and—"

"Now wait just one moment!"

Jacqueline and Albus stopped as Hermione interrupted.

"I thought Grindewald and his band were merely a bunch of unruly teenagers!"

Jacquline and Albus stared at her, mouths hanging open.

"Well, I—"

"Er, I didn't think—"

Hermione cocked her head.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

Their lack of answer confirmed theirs.

"Silly, the lot of you!" Hermione turned so she was addressing the rest of the Great Hall.

"All of you are ridiculous! Grindewald and his band are no more powerful than the rest of us!" She stopped, feeling the intense stare of all those at the staff table. Orion wasn't there yet; so neither was Fortesque. Fortesque! He was the reason why these students were merely that; frightened children.

"For God's sake, they're TEENAGERS! LIKE US! Young, bumbling, idiotic, chaotic, pimply-faced—"

"I think that will do for now, Miss Granger."

Hermione stopped as Fortesque and Orion entered the Great Hall, each taking their respective seats.

Hermione felt her neck burn as her entire body blushed.

"Right, then."

She sat down quickly, still aware of the fact that the entire student body was still staring at her.

Albus reached across the table, grabbing her hand reassuringly.

"You…you're right, Hermione." Various heads swiveled at this proclamation.

"Here… let's get out of here."

"But my scone.." Hermione groaned as she was pulled away from the delectable table.

"We'll eat in the common room; let's get out of here."

Hermione nodded. Normalcy… that's what she needed. Just some alone time to collect her thoughts…. Her and Albus…. Hermione grabbed his hand as though he was a life-line. God, she loved him.

"Now, I think it's about time," he proclaimed as they sped out of the Great Hall, many heads still turning to observe them.

"Time for what?" Hermione questioned.

"THIS!"

Hermione shrieked he once against swung her over his shoulder, and ran at full speed towards the portrait hole. Hermione laughed her arse off the whole way there, her mind completely forgetting Grindewald, Malfoy, Fortesque, and Orion.

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Sorry for the straight-forward author's note in the beginning, and I wasn't referring to any reviews in particular. Just had a rather nasty conversation with a friend over writing in general; she writes here purely for the fluff. I'm not saying fluff is stupid and without purpose; quite the contrary. All I mean to say is I don't mean to continue this fic in that manner. (Though you could certainly argue it started out that way.) I feel that I'm matured and developed as a writer throughout the course of the fic, and I'm going to attempt to continue to sharpen my skills to give you a better reading experience.

Reviews: love, love, love them. It lets me know you care, and hey, it might even make you feel better about yourself. ha. I'm in love with the reviewers who leave more than the demanding 'great chap update!' and actually comment on the plot. You guys help me become a better writer, and that just helps everyone. Though I simply CANNOT stand writers who say they will only update unless they get x amount of reviews (then you're obviously not here because you love writing you knob!), I still like to get recognition for a chapter well done.

Encouragement keeps me happy, keeps me writing regulary, is the general bullet-point of this presentation.

Cheers,

Diana


	19. Chapter 19

Back in the present, life had mostly progressed forward. By now, most had tried to move past Hermione's mysterious disappearance, and they tried to focus on what lay ahead in their own lives.

While everyone else was off leading productive lives, Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore sat on a stone ledge outside the castle, head in hands, doing absolutely nothing to thwart Voldemort, or 'Voldy-Shorts' as Harry had affectionately begun calling him.

The three sat on the ledge, watching the giant squid drift lazily cross the lake.

"You know, Harry," Dumbledore began, turning to face him. "I had all of this pertinent information I was going to give you this year. To do with Voldy-Sh—er, Voldemort, I mean. Long, drawn-out memories combined with manipulating you to get something from Slughorn for me because I didn't feel like getting it myself. It was all going to be quite exciting, and take up three-quarters of the 6th book."

Harry didn't blink, not being fazed by this confession whatsoever. He calmly replied from where he sat.

"So all of that…information...Is it something you could just, you know… tell me?"

Dumbledore contemplated a moment, then kicked a stone in resignation. He watched it topple a few feet away.

He sighed, defeated.

"Yes, I suppose. Voldemort has these thingies called horcruxes, you need to destroy them all 'cause it'll make him mortal, and able to finally die good and proper. And oh yes, there's a prophecy that says you can't live while he's living, and that eventually one of you will have to kill the other."

Ron blanched slightly.

"Is that it?"

Dumbledore furrowed his brow in concentration.

"For now."

"Oh," Harry replied. "Right. I guess I'll get on that then…sometime…"

"Yeah… and I'll help…sometime…" Ron added.

Both were still forlorn after the information they had uncovered at the library.

Harry turned to look at Dumbledore.

"You know, if you had made all of that information about Voldemort long and drawn out, I probably would have been very angry with you. Might have thrown a wrench into our relationship, as it were. I could have gotten quite out of hand, yelling, breaking your things, and such."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Probably."

"So, at this point you'd answer any question regarding anything you've done to me the past 16 years?"

Dumbledore nodded sadly.

"Brilliant. Expect me around 8pm. Ron and I have to run along now, more research, you see."

Harry swore he saw Dumbledore glare at them a split second before turning back to watch the squid's progress.

Ron followed Harry into the great hall.

"What do you reckon?" He whispered.

"Well, continuing pretending to be his crutch to cry on can only benefit us, I think. I mean, he's bound to let loose more information, since McGonagall _still_ won't tell me what's going on."

"Right."

The two headed towards the Gryffindor table, stomachs rumbling. As they piled chicken dumplings and trecle onto their plates, Ron couldn't resist turning to Harry.

"Still, who would have known Dumbledore was such the womanizer?"

He was referring to the information they had found out in the library, the previous week.

Harry grinned as Ron proceeded to eat with vigor. It was a surprise indeed. Dumbledore had been in quite the relationship when he was younger… who would have thought the most powerful bachelor in the wizarding world was once a love-sick puppy?

If only Hermione were here to discuss this new development…

As Harry picked up his own fork, still grinning, a sudden realization made his stomach drop, and also made Harry glad he hadn't eaten anything yet.

"Oh my God…"

Ron paused in mid-chew, his cheeks bulging.

"Wha is et 'Arry?"

Harry gripped the edges of the table hard, his eyes following Dumbldore, who had just entered the hall and was making his way to the staff table.

"No…" he whispered, disbelieving.

It was to Ron's credit that he dropped the chicken leg he was holding.

"Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry grabbed Ron by the shirt, and pulled him in close.

"Ron, all that stuff we found out about Dumbledore and his 'lost love'… that relationship he had back in his sixth year…what if…"

He paused to gulp.

"What if what, Harry?"

"What if it was _Hermione?"_

Ron stared at Harry, his mouth a large **O. **Harry let go of Ron, who fell back into his chair, his face turning a nasty, paste-white color.

"No…way…"

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Orion limped down the corridor, almost fully-recovered from another night's ravage on his body. He sighed as he leaned against a wall, and checked the watch on his wrist that he now carried on him night and day. This watch was unique in that it showed him precisely where he was on his cycle, and would dually warn him of an oncoming transformation.

Orion had never gotten over how he had almost transformed in the corridor that one night. In fact, he was quite sure that he had had three more days until the full moon; he had checked the muggle calendar under his desk earlier that morning to make sure.

Well, Orion was done taking chances. It was a good thing Hermione had been there…

"Bloody damn lucky…"

Inwardly, Orion was incredibly grateful for Hermione's company. Even though she was outside of his door, just knowing she was there to lend her support helped him keep his mind, and refrain from letting him take much of his frustration out on himself. Coupled with Hermione's healing and care the next morning, Orion's transformations were becoming… bearable.

And, after much discussion, debate, and perhaps a well-aimed oblivate charm (Hermione still wouldn't admit to anything either way), the headmaster had consented to making Hermione the first Assistant to the Potions Master. This, of course, helped to hide the real reason why Hermione and Orion would be seen spending more time together, and hopefully it would erase suspicion from the potions professor. Of course, Malfoy was another entity, but while he had resumed teaching with a vigor that hadn't been seen in at least ten years, he still couldn't remember where his quarters were half the time. So, for the moment, Malfoy was neither a threat nor a concern.

Orion shifted his weight, and continued to make his way to the dungeons for class. He hated the cold, dark atmosphere, but he had to admit it was the ideal atmosphere for potion brewing. And after all, Hermione would be there! This was one of the class periods where she had free-time, and it had been her suggestion to actually help him during classes; it would complete the ruse, in her opinion.

Though was it a ruse? Hermione was incredibly adept at potions, and was becoming a big help to Orion. Instead of spending all of his time brewing minor potions for the hospital wing, he could now focus on further developing his lesson plans. The arrangement was entirely to his liking.

Yet as to Hermione's feelings, he could not say. After all, why would a young, bright, attractive woman like her want to spend a great deal of her time with _him?_ Especially when she had a boyfriend to tend to.

Ah well, Alkiema thought, as he opened the doors and was greeted by Hermione's smiling face, along with the resigned stares of fifteen or so third years.

Some things Orion just wouldn't understand.

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As Orion opened the doors to enter his classroom, Hermione couldn't help but notice the graceful air he held in entering, which was so unlike the dramatic smack Professor Snape had gotten her accustomed to. He entered the room with a grin, and when he reached his desk he automatically handed his cane to Hermione, who leaned it against the wall.

"Ah, thank you." He turned to the board, and waved his wand, where instructions and ingredients were posted.

"Today I will have you exploring something different than the normal. I want you to take the common household ingredients listed above, and create a homemade antidote for a common cold. This exercise will test your magical core, as well as how developed your critical thinking skills are. Both are important for when you take your O.W.L.s in your fifth year. Miss Granger and I will be around should you need assistance. Any questions?"

They merely stared back at him, intimidated by this vague and challenging assignment.

"I have faith in you all, and don't worry if you can't seem to get it right, it won't negatively affect your grade. But if you do well, your scores can only rise. Use that as incentive. After all, the strength of everyone's magical core is somewhat different. Off you go!"

Feeling slightly better, the usual dull roar of chatter and clattering overtook the dungeon as the students brought out their cauldrons, rushed to get ingredients, and flipped pages of their books, hoping divine inspiration would strike them. Orion turned as he felt Hermione's hand on her shoulder.

"Professor, what an interesting lesson." He could see her warm smile through her attempt at professionalism.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. If you wouldn't be around to take care of Guinevere's demands I would never have time to come up with such... thought-provoking material."

Orion silently laughed as Hermione blushed at the compliment. How great it was to have a meaningful friend once more!

"I'm going to prowl the students, and see how they're doing. Feel free to join at anytime."

Hermione nodded, and watched him walk off, dodging between students and offering tidbits of advice.

As he leaned down over someone's cauldron, Hermione couldn't help but laugh as the foul stench made him crinkle his nose in disgust. He then tried to hide his expression, and tell the anxious student-in-question that he was doing just fine. If only Hermione had had such a caring potions professor!

Hermione sat down at her own desk, and began looking over the latest list of demands from various teachers.

_Helstreff_ _wants three batches of sneakoscope potion for the upcoming ball, trying to sort out who has used love potions to obtain dates..._

_Malfoy wants orange juice, nothing new there..._

Hermione inwardly groaned as the list from Guinevere and her infirmary went on for five pages. It was going to be a long class period.

"Er, Miss...Miss Granger? I... uh..."

Hermione looked up as one of the students attempted to get her attention.

"Yes?"

He looked incredibly shy, but determined.

"I...was wondering if you'd---you'd help me?"

Hermione grinned, and made her way towards him.

"Of course."

She recoiled slightly as a black, concealed mess oozed in the cauldron before her.

"Um, Mr..."

"My name's Scottie."

"Right, Scottie. What exactly were you trying to attempt here?"

As he began to stutter on about just what he was trying to create, Hermione could feel her neck burn as she felt Orion's gaze on her. He was back at his desk, amused with Hermione's attempts to fix the boy's potion.

"Alright Scottie, I think the answer is simple. Just let me chop up some fuddleroot, and once we add that I think you'll be back in business."

The boy nodded, and Hermione turned her back on the potion to chop aforementioned root.

"Oh that's alright Miss Granger, I can get it!"

Hermione felt time slow as Scottie picked up an entire root of fuddle and dropped it into the cauldron, unchopped and unmeasured. Orion, with his wolfish actueness, smelled the fully-grown specimen before Scottie had even whipped it out.

"NO!"

The class watched in astonishment as Orion had bounded forward, seemingly flying over the desk and chairs to grab Hermione and Scottie, hurtling them and himself out of the way as the potion exploded.

The students screamed as the potion began to eat through anything it came into contact with, simply burning it up like a potent acid. Luckily, no one had been splashed since Orion had been so quick. The desks, books, and floor hadn't been so lucky, however

"Evanesco Repairo!"

The mess vanished as the damage was repaired, and the student's attention was turned to their teacher. He was still clutching Hermione protectively around the waist, his wand outstretched.

Noticing the stares, he abruptly let go of her, and moved forward.

"Scottie! You should know better than to drop a full fudderoot into a tempermental potion! Detention!"

Scottie looked very much ashamed, but was still staring between Hermione and Orion, along with everyone else.

"I--I think that's enough excitement for one day. Class dismissed!"

"But professor, what about the extra cre--"

"OUT!"

The students scrambled to leave the dungeons, some even forgetting their cauldrons. When the last one had scampered out, Hermione ran back to Orion.

"Orion, what's wrong?"

He whipped around to face her.

"N-nothing's wrong."

"Your face is white, and those third years were acting very strange. What's going on?"

Orion sought for an excuse.

"Well, I was worried, wasn't I? You and Scottie could have been severely hurt!"

Hermione registered this.

"Oh."

"Hermione, I think it's best that you leave. Go work on some homework, or find Albus. Yes, go spend some time with Albus. Something."

Hermione frowned. This wasn't like Orion at all.

"But about the po--"

"PLEASE!"

Hermione shut her mouth, shocked.

"I'm sorry...just...just go. I'm a bit shaken."

Hermione nodded, and with a soft 'of course,' gathered her things and crossed the threshold. Upon reaching the door, she turned to Orion.

"Uh... thanks for saving me, I guess."

Orion nodded.

"Yes, yes... just _go!"_

Hermione fled the dungeons.

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Back in the common room, Albus Dumbledore was busy pouting. It had been a full week since him and Hermione had done something special; the only time he now saw her was at meals, and in the common room right before bed. He understood of course; being a professor's assistant was a great honor and a lot of work, but Albus still was feeling slightly neglected.

Wait! What if Hermione felt the same way? After all, she was the one being overworked! It was settled then.

Albus grinned to himself as he began planning a romantic evening. It was the perfect opportunity for the both of them to relax, and reconnect with each other. Albus bounded out of the portrait, and down to the great hall. They would grab some food, then head back to the common room for a nice little dinner by firelight. It would be perfect!

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Already settled in the great hall, Professor Alkiema's third year students were already relating the strange events of the day's class to their peers, over dinner. Scottie was particualry vocal, despite his looming detention.

"Yea, and then he pushed us out of the way, but then let me go and held on to her! I've never seen a man touch a woman like that in public before! He was holding her by the waist for at least three minutes!"

The other members of the table looked shocked indeed. It wouldn't be long before all four tables knew of this interesting behavior by their potion's master.

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I would like to take this time to correct a discrepancy in the plot. Originally, I had mentioned that the ball was to going to be held at the end of the year. Well, I took months and months off from the fic, and when I came back, I forgot that detail, instead placing the ball sometime in the winter, and having it rescheduled to be end of the year. I also apologize for Alkiema: I had given him a different color of eyes in the first chapter he was introduced than I gave him later on.

That will teach you for abandoning fics, lol.

Please, review! Doesn't have to be nice, I just want to hear you! Also feel free to throw in your own ideas.


	20. Chapter 20

Hey there! I'm back! And just so you know, still Silinde here, just decided to change my pename. Enjoy this latest installment, and don't forget to drop a line (review!) on your way out the door!

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As soon as Hermione had put one foot into the Great Hall, she knew something was wrong. The tension in the air was palpable, and the students closest to her had stopped talking, preferring to stare at her instead.

Not sure what was going on, and quite used to staring as it was (thank you, Rita Skeeter!), Hermione continued until she reached the Gryffindor table, sliding unceremoniously onto the bench.

"Ellen! I haven't seen you since yesterday. How are things in charms going, better?"

The girl Hermione was addressing turned sharply, as if shocked Hermione should be speaking to her. She raised her chin defiantly, and sniffed at Hermione. She then abruptly turned her head to continue the conversation with her neighbor.

Unsettled, Hermione meekly turned inwards and gave herself a generous helping of trifle.

What odd behavior… Hermione took the opportunity to scan the Great Hall, and felt a jolt as she realized just how many eyes were on her. She scoffed, and picked up her spoon.

"Honestly, it was just a potion…" she muttered to no one in particular.

The trifle had been half-way up to mouth when her brain had kicked into overdrive.

It can't be over the potion… something else is wrong.

Hermione frowned, and thought back to her books at home on the Victorian Era. What else was it that was deemed unacceptable in this society?

Noticing that Alkiema was absent from the high table, she realized their, or rather his, error.

"Shit."

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Albus had been halfway to the Great Hall when the first girl had simpered up beside him, offering her sincerest apologies as well as a few choice words about Hermione, eyelashes fluttering furiously the whole time. Needless to say, Albus had been a little more than confused.

But by the time he reached the Great Hall, his confusion had turned to alarm and disappointment.

He had fully expected Hermione to be at the Gryffindor table, but was quickly informed that he had just missed her.

"Where did she go?"

They had just shrugged, offering nothing more then sympathetic looks.

Put-out, Albus had slumped onto his bench, accepting the attentions of the opposite gender, but vowing to talk to Hermione at the nearest opportunity.

Yet he wasn't able to dwell on the subject for long.

At that moment Headmaster Fortesque stood up from his seat, and motioned for quiet. The Great Hall silenced at once.

Fortesque looked somber, and his face was drawn in with lines of concern and worry.

"My children, it may or may not have come to your attention that the mischief of Grindewald's band was felt at Hogwarts, and quite recently."

Half of the students nodded, while the other half looked confused.

"I am referring, of course, to Professor Malfoy. While you may or may not know the details behind his sudden oddness or behavior, let me assure you that the danger has passed, and he will recover in time."

Many in the audience frowned at this lack of information.

"My purpose right now is to ask if anyone here has any information regarding this incident." Fortesque surveyed the mass of students, pausing to look over their heads.

"If so, do not hesitate to come to me, or any other member of the staff. Everything will be kept in the strictest of confidence."

Fortesque then promptly sat down, and gravely surveyed what was left of his dinner. Alarmed by the abrupt end to the speech, the rest of the school immediately broke out into a mass of frantic whispers.

Twirling his fork in his dinner, Albus vaguely wondered what Hermione thought of the whole thing. She had, after all, been with the teachers.

Or had she? The gargoyles had been quite sure she had not.

Shaking his head, Albus chalked up all of his mutterings up to the list of things he would be discussing with her. In fact, why not start now? And this time, he wouldn't stop until he found her.

Wishing Hogwarts wasn't quite so big, Albus took off down the corridor.

Meanwhile, outside of the Hogwarts grounds, a dozen figures swathed in dark cloaks hovered. The figure in the center was the tallest and thickest of the group, and motioned for the others to gather near.

"If the wizarding world wants to continually blame their troubles with us, then troubles are what we'll give them.," he hissed beneath the hood of his robe, anger flashing in his eyes.

"They want to blame us for the Malfoy incident, fine. It just means less work for more result."

The man paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. Then he shifted suddenly, causing those around him to flinch.

"Black, you know what you are to do."

The ancestor of Bellatrix grinned wickedly, letting her hood fall from her face.

"Lure one of them out, the younger or more important, the better. Then we all grab 'im, rushing them out of the grounds and towards the manor."

The leader nodded, the approval he felt for the young Black evident in his voice.

"Correct, Vivica. Once again I commend you on the use of your manor, so conveniently located between Hogsmeade and the school."

Vivica bowed slightly, honored to serve the man she (and the others) were beginning to consider more of a master than a colleague.

"It is my pleasure, sir. The shack that sits next to the manor is well-suited to our purposes."

The group laughed.

"Indeed, Vivica. In fact, our most recent adventure in your shack has led to the town talking, since _someone_ forgot the silencing charm."

A burning glare was thrown in the direction of one of the hooded figures, who immediately cowered slightly.

"Yes," Vivica admitted, though smiling slightly. "They were unnerved by the screams. If only my father and mother were still alive, I know they would approve of our goal."

An uncontrollable snicker was directed at Vivica and Tylis, whose parents had died mysteriously one night while in their manor.

Vivica's head snapped in the direction of the noise, and it died instantly.

"Indeed. The locals, they're beginning to call it the Shrieking Shack!"

The leader smiled deliciously, his wand hand itching.

"And they will pray for the day their death comes easy there! Now Vivica, onto your task. The rest of us must prepare for your success."

Vivica bowed, and retreated towards the castle.

"Of course, my lord Grindewald."

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It had taken Hermione the better part of the evening, but she had finally located Orion up in one of the astronomy towers.

She had lingered for a few moments by the door, taking in how the quarter moon illuminated his skin as he laid stretched out on his back, underneath the window.

"So you found me."

Hermione jumped, the blush that was creeping up her face doing nothing to hide her shame.

"Don't be alarmed. My heightened senses picked you up before you had even climbed the ladder."

Hermione's gaze dropped down to the hem of her robe.

"I take it you know the severity of what transpired in potions?"

"I think I've figured it out, yes."

Orion sighed, then motioned for Hermione to join him.

"Such is considered quite the scandal in these days, I don't know about your time. But for now, when it's just us, I don't see the harm."

Hermione nodded, and flopped down beside him on the floor.

"My, how ungraceful, Miss Granger."

Hermione stuck out her tongue, giving Orion a playful punch on the shoulder.

Orion laughed softly, and then gave a sad sigh.

"I don't understand what's so wrong about.. _this."_

Hermione felt her breathe catch.

"What do you mean?"

Orion put his hands behind his head, and gazed out the window at the stars.

"I mean, you and I. Man and woman, yet just friends. Why is that so strange?"

"I confess I don't understand it myself. Perhaps this society is so caught up in marriage and respectable company that is loses sight of something so… wonderful. And it has been, having someone to truly talk to, besides Albus, that is."

Orion turned on his side to face her, and grinned.

"I feel the same way. Well, minus Albus of course!" Orion had wrinkled his nose, eliciting a giggle from Hermione.

Then suddenly he turned serious.

"Hermione, I can't even begin to tell you have thankful I am to have found you. Before you came, I was beginning to lose hope; beginning to give up on life. Everything seemed hopeless."

Hermione met those golden eyes.

"I know what you mean. Back in my time…a terrible war… my best friend carries such a burden…sometimes I wonder if it's not doing the same to him."

Hermione felt pressure as Orion leaned over and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"It's almost as if, sometimes…"

"You'll lose your dignity?" Hermione answered, whispering.

Orion's eyes began to swim.

"Yes, and I know I can continue on as long as I have that, but sometimes I just wonder…"

"If someone will care…" Hermione offered quietly.

"And then comes the wondering…"

"If you'll wake up tomorrow,"

"…from this nightmare."

The last statement they had whispered simultaneously.

Hermione wiped her nose on her sleeve, and Orion rolled over on his back again. They maintained their connection however, through their joined hands.

They laid there in silence for a few moments.

"Do you miss them?"

"Yes," Hermione replied instantly. "Yet everyday the pain becomes less. I hope I'm not becoming cold to it."

Orion sat up, reaching to touch her cheek gently.

"You are cold."

Hermione grabbed her ankles, huddling into herself.

"I'm fine."

"No, here."

Orion felt the cool air hit his body as he removed his heavy cloak, draping it around Hermione's shoulders.

He then reached out tentatively, to grasp her shoulder. She instinctively leaned into him, and he slowly wrapped his arms around her shoulders, rocking her.

They stayed like that for an hour or two, when Hermione remarked that she should really make an appearance in the common room, and how she needed to spend some well-deserved time with Albus. Orion had agreed silently, and together they had descended the astronomy tower.

That was when they ran into Albus.

Mentally glad they had decided to put on the student-professor face while in the corridors, Hermione was happy to see Albus bounding up to them.

"Hermione! There you are. Professor."

Albus bowed slightly to Orion.

"Excuse us sir, but I really need to talk to Hermione."

"Of course, Albus. Hermione, I will see you later. Remember the essence of murtlap!"

Hermione smiled, and nodded.

"Well, I'll just be on my way. Be careful, you two. It is past curfew, after all."

The young couple bowed, and Orion swept off in the direction of his quarters.

To her consternation, Albus took the path up to the same place her and Orion had just been.

He turned to her, smiling and heartfelt. He hadn't even thought about why Orion and her had come from the tower, which was a long way from the potions lab. Hermione shook her head; it wasn't her matter. It just made concealing their growing friendship easier. It wasn't as though she had anything to hide from Albus; it was just that she didn't want to deal with it yet.

Reaching the top, Albus kneeled in front of Hermione, taking her hand in his and putting his lips gently on the air above her hand.

"Hermione, I love you."

Hemrione felt herself smile; her fears and insecurities melting away.

"Albus…"

He stood quickly, one arm around her waist, and the other securely at the back of her neck.

"We have the night. And it's been far too long since I've enjoyed your company."

Hermione felt herself sliding into his arms.

"Here, I'm all the warmth you need."

He flung Orion's cloak from her shoulders, and it landed haphazardly in the dusty corner. Hermione's eyes watched as the fabric slumped into itself, and lay still. Her snapped back to Albus.

"Tonight is for us." He pulled out a candle, and grinned. "Hermione, my hands are full. Can you light my candle?"

Hermione laughed, and surprised Albus by kissing him fully on the lips. He jerked in surprise, and then deepened the kiss.

After a long moment, they broke away panting.

"I meant a lumos, but whatever works." He was grinning nervously.

Hermione playfully punched him on the shoulder, and they lay in each others' arms until the sun poked its head on the horizon.


	21. Chapter 21

I know many are irritated at the infrequent updates; therefore, I will try my hardest to be better about it. And yes, I was listening to Rent while writing the end of the last chapter. :-P

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Hermione woke the next morning feeling renewed and refreshed. She had left her curtains open before she went to bed, so that now the sun were streaming in through the window, bathing her in its golden light.

Today would be a good day.

Stretching and yawning, Hermione padded her way to the bathroom in order to get ready for the day. She put the now-familiar trappings of the era over her body, and glimpsed at herself in the mirror.

Frowning, Hermione decided that today needed to be special. She stood for a moment, contemplating, then began muttering glamour spells under her breath.

Twenty minutes later Hermione emerged with a bright application of cosmetics, and hair that had been softly curled and perfumed. She was surprised at how much better she felt now that her appearance was better.

"Perhaps this is why Pansy and all of them take so much time in the mornings…"

Sitting down at a small table by the window, Hermione contemplated what to do about the Conan (she really liked his first name better than his middle, anyway) situation. How would a woman of this time period deal with it?

Probably send herself to a convent, Hermione thought darkly.

Perhaps, what was needed was a 21st century approach.

Making up her mind, Hermione strode down to the Great Hall for breakfast, determined. To her delight, most of the student body was present, at even Orion (Conan!) was at his seat, even if he was not meeting anyone's eyes or talking.

"Perfect."

Hermione walked briskly to the staff table, smirking at the whispers and shocked mutterings of those around her. She gave a slight bow to the headmaster when she arrived, and when he gave a surprised nod back in reflex, she pointed her wand at her throat and with a whispered "Sonorus!" stood to face the crowd.

"Good morning, everyone." She continued without pause, to give no room for retaliation.

"Some of you seem to be under the impression that an incident of great significance happened in the potions dungeons the other day."

Hermione looked out of the corner of her eyes to see Orion staring blatantly, harshly, in her direction.

Ignoring his intense gaze, Hermione turned back to the school.

"This is a lie. There was a dangerous situation present, and Professor Alkiema performed a heroic act by making sure that all of his students were out of danger, including me. Those of you who have been gossiping this poor professor to shame," he pointed dramatically at Alkiema, "should be ashamed of yourselves! And even more so to those students who were in class at the time."

Some students had began to shirk under her harsh tone, and others had the grace to look embarrassed. Hermione smiled to herself. It was working!

"Now, if it is not too much of a bother, we will drop this issue, and continue with our lives. That is all."

She gave another bow to the headmaster, and strode briskly out through the double doors of the Great Hall, down the corridors, and out of the main doors onto the grounds. She did not stop her progress until she reached the lake. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, sat down heavily in the grass, still wet from dew. Her dress was black, what did it matter?

"Hermione! Hey!"

Hermione hissed in pain from whiplash and she turned quickly to see who had been following her. Her face reddened when she saw that it was Albus.

"I didn't realize you were in the great hall."

He slowed, coming a halt next to her.

"I wasn't, but your spell carried down the corridor."

"Oh.."

They stood there for a moment, awkwardly.

"Here, take my cloak. You shouldn't be sitting on the ground, least of all when it's wet."

Hermione sighed as she lifted up her bottom, and Albus spread the cloak out on the ground.

"I really admired what you did in there, you know."

Hermione turned to face him, and was met by an emotional face.

"I mean, it shouldn't have been up to you do to that. I should have stood up to everybody and defended you."

Hermione couldn't help, she started to giggle. Albus looked slightly affronted.

"What's so funny?"

Hermione couldn't speak. "N-nineteenth… c-century…chivalry!" she managed to choke out, before dissolving into hysterics completely.

Albus scratched his head, not sure what to think of this. Woman were supposed to find such declarations of his noble and valiant, not humorous. Oh well, if it made her happy…

Albus allowed himself a grin, and waited for her laughter to subside.

"I'm sorry, Albus… it's just, in my time, the men never stand up for the women, see. We usually have to do the dirty work ourselves!"

Albus thought that this sounded terrible, but Hermione was still having trouble controlling herself.

"Oh, never mind me. Let's sit for awhile."

Albus grinned, relishing the feel of Hermione as she leaned her body against his. He wrapped his long arms around her, and they both stared out at the lake in quiet and reflective companionship.

From his perch in the astronomy tower, Orion was trying to cope with an emotion he hadn't felt in three or so years.

Jealously. Pure, unadulterated, jaded rage.

He stared down at the couple by the lake, trying to ration with himself.

It wasn't working.

Hermione had become so close to him these past few months; the best friend that he had never had. So why did it bother him so much that she was lying in the arms of another man? She was perfectly within her rights to have other friends. Even if they were male. And attractive. And with a high status in society.

_Stop it!_

Orion fought for control as blood-lust began to fill his veins. It wasn't him talking, it was the wolf! Orion had heard the stories from others, but, (being the mild-mannered person he was) had never experienced it.

He had read about the involuntary transformations. When a werewolf became too emotionally distressed in human form, it was possible to start a slight transformation if control was not taken immediately.

Orion cursed himself, and his weakness. He felt the darkness attempt to consume him, and tried to fight it. It wasn't him wanting Albus' blood, it was the wolf! It wasn't him who desired Hermione's flesh, it was the wolf!

But was it?

Orion fell to his knees on the cold stone, grabbing his head in his hands and crying out.

He could not lose control!

Hermione's figure from earlier danced before his eyes, her strong frame radiating confidence as she told off the entire school of Hogwarts for their gossiping. Her strength… her passion, her beauty…

The wolf in Orion wanted to taste that strength, to bridle the passion, to make it crumble beneath him…

"NOOOO!"

Orion slammed his hands into the stone wall, the pain a welcome distraction.

After a few moments of breathing hard, he felt that he had regained enough of himself to leave the astronomy tower.

For as long as he had been a werewolf, Orion had been able to keep the wolf in him dormant around women. As long as society cherished the woman who was quiet, meek, and subservient, the wolf in him lay dormant.

Hermione was no such woman.

Glancing out the window once more, Orion grabbed his chest as a fierce pang ripped through his body.

He might have to spend the night in the forest, and there was certainly no way he would meet with Hermione to discuss potions curriculum.

Taking a moment to gather himself, Orion headed slowly to the owlery.

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Down by the lake, Hermione shifted in position and smiled up at Albus.

"Do you have something to tell me?"

Albus started for a moment, looking very surprised. Hermione chuckled to herself. His skill of hiding what he was thinking must have been acquired much later in his life.

"Well, as a matter of fact I do. However, it will have to wait until dinner, since it is not official yet."

Hermione looked at him skeptically.

"You have never struck me as the sly type, Albus Dumbledore. But I suppose I shall have to trust you on this."

Albus smiled, and bent to kiss the top of her head. Straightening up, he gave her a parting wave and pratically skipped up to the castle.

Watching his progress, Hermione couldn't help but grin to herself. Oh well, she supposed that she would have to wait until tonight to find out about this surprise of his.

Gathering her skirts around her, Hermione was about to head into the castle herself. After all, there was a bit of schoolwork to be done.

Before she could move, however, she was accosted by a large, tawny owl.

"HEY!"

Hermione covered her head as the owl hovered condescendingly, hooting since there was no good place to land. Reluctantly, Hermione held out her arm, and was surprised by the gentleness shown by the owl as he landed softly on her flesh. Hermione took the small scroll with her other hand, and a smile spread across her face.

"I've always wanted to do this..."

The owl hooted, as if in agreement, and Hermione suddenly thrust her arm out into the air. The owl used the momentum from her push to launch into the air, the wind from his impressing wing-span causing Hermione's hair to swirl in the breeze. Hermione watched in awe as the powerful bird circled around the castle turrets, and was lost from view in the sky.

Sighing, Hermione turned her attention to the parchment in her hand. She unrolled it, still smiling. However, the further her eyes traveled down the parchment, the more pronounced her frown became.

_Hermione,_

_Do not come to the potions lab or anywhere near the dungeons tonight. I am otherwise engaged. _

_-Professor Alkiema_

Hermione furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of the note. Orion had never refused her company, and he certainly had never referred to her so formally in a private note before. Racking her brain, Hermione realized there was at least three more days until the full moon. No, something else was wrong. Hermione grit her teeth, wondering if he was still upset over the potions incident.

Whatever it was, she was going to find out!

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Fawkes the phoenix was in quite the predicament.

On the one hand, he enjoyed seeing the normally poised headmaster as frantic as a schoolgirl caught in a broom closet, yet on the other hand the bird's own personal needs were suffering.

The faithful pet squawked in protest as old, congealed droppings and the bones of weeks-old dinners lay scattered the floor. Honestly, Fawkes was a phoenix! A creature of the utmost majesty! He should be living in a palace with his own flock of servants, not stuck in the decrepit, stinking room that was currently the headmaster's office.

Well, Fawkes thought, lowering his beak, perhaps the servants wouldn't be necessary. But they _would_ be nice.

He squawed again, not liking the irnoy of the situation. He had tears that could heal the most injured, a voice that could inspire the hopeless, yet no concept whatsoever of household cleaning skills!

Deciding he might as well live in the owlery (here Fawkes shuddered physically), Fawkes flew out of Dumbledore's open window, deciding to ponder the current state of things.

The cool air of the evening glided through Fawkes' gold-red feathers as he flew between and around the many turrets of Hogwarts castle. It was clear something needed to be done, but what?

Fawkes shook his head, straining his wings to gain more altitude. He couldn't quite put his talon on it, but he was starting to think his master's attitude has been affecting those around him as well. Fawkes was even beginning to feel ill and weak; almost as though his very meaning of existence was slowly melting away. That was just preposterous of course; he was a phoenix! Phoenixes didn't die...

Fawkes had to do a tight manuever as an unpleasant thought occurred to him.

What if the reason he felt his purpose was fading was due to the Granger girl? What if she's been meddling in the timeline, thereby _making_ Fawkes' purpose fade?

Well now, that was ridiculous.

Fawkes glided to a statue of a particuarly fearsome-looking gargoyle, flaring his wings at the last moment to land. He needed to think this through.

He knew his purpose was to serve Albus Dumbledore; to be there when he needed him the most. To anyone within Hogwarts castle, it certainly seemed as though that time was now. Yet, it didn't feel right to Fawkes. He knew he was dwindling; if he stayed with the headmaster much longer, he wasn't sure what would become of him.

Well, if the present Dumbledore didn't need him right now, perhaps the past Dumbledore does!

Pumping his head straight in the air, Fawkes was proud to arrive at this conclusion.

To his consternation, he saw several first years gathered by the entrance hall, pointing up at him and staring.

Usually Fawkes would take a moment to be admired; he knew what a glorious sight he must make poised on the statue. After all, the setting sun was bound to make his plumage look like liquid fire.

However, Fawkes was not in the mood, and instead gave the students a hostile glare. Once they had scurried away, Fawkes made his decision, regardless of how it would affect timelines, or even if he would be living at Hogwarts in the future. Oh well. One thing was clear; he had made an oath to Albus, to be there when he needed Fawkes. Reaching out through the generations, Fawkes could tell that a young Dumbledore needed him. Now.

With a flick of his tail-feathers, Fawes took the plunge into the sands of time.

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	22. Chapter 22

Hermione burst through the dungeon doors, in a manner not unlike her former potions professor. She was panting, hair disheveled and eyes wild. She opened her mouth to assault whomever she encountered first, but had to hastily close it in surprise.

There was no one there.

Hermione's bristled stance relaxed, and her wait shifted back onto her heels. The potions classroom looked so different at night...

The darkness was oppressing, but much more so than normal night. Hermione put a hand out into the air as if testing it, and thought she could feel the traces of something... lingering. There was magic in the air, but it felt different than the normal Hogwarts atmosphere. It felt dark, yet strangely inviting...

She shivered, unconsciously covering her arms.

"Lumos!"

The tip of her wand sputtered for a few moments, then died, leaving only dark, smooth wood in her hand. Hermione felt a stab of panic. Why wasn't her wand working? This had never happened to her before!

"Lumos, Lumos!"

Nothing.

Hermione immediately moved back towards the door, blind fear seizing her around her midsection. She reached for the doorknob, then hesitated. If she left now, all her curiosity would be for naught.

Subconsciously, Harry's face was swimming before eyes, a sad look in his eyes. How many times had he fought his way through adversary? She was standing in a _classroom_ for Merlin's sake! How was she supposed to figure out a way home, or to help Harry defeat Voldemort, if she was afraid of a little dark?

She stuck her nose in the air, and turned back to face the classroom. She willed her eyes to decipher the shapes in the dark.

"Professor Alkiema?"

She took another step into the darkness.

"Orion, are you here?"

She moved forward slowly, only able to just make out the shapes of the various desk labs and tables. Her wand was held out in front of her, tapping and testing through the darkness; a makeshift cane.

Hermione stood still for a moment, before whipping around suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. After standing still for a moment, she felt rather foolish. There she stood, in a defensive position, her useless wand held menacingly in front of her. She relaxed her body, and gave a throaty laugh. What was she going to do? Poke her attacker in the eye?

Her self-criticism gave her the courage she needed, and she continued to cross the classroom to put a hand on the door she and all of her classmates had always known was expressively forbidden.

It was a corridor that linked the potions classroom to the potions master's private rooms.

As her hand rested on the heavy mahogany, she felt a strange heat warm her palm. Adrenaline raced through her veins; if only Professor Snape could see her now!

Her mind ran to Orion, and his reaction if she knew she was coming down here unannouced, on her own, and after everything that had happened.

"Honestly Hermione," she murmered to herself, "you've been in his private quarters before."

True, but before the air hadn't been ridden with heavy magic, and a sense of danger hadn't lurked in the air.

"You really need to stop reading so many gothic suspense novels." Hermione chastised herself, trying to use humor to give her strength.

Hermione took a breath, opened the door, and disappeared behind its heavy wood. The door shut behind her with a commanding click.

She had no idea that her entire progress had been watched.

He was standing straight as a board in a corner of the room, shrouded in a black cloak, waiting. He half-prayed she would heed his note.

Alkiema had been waiting for her, and was at first dismayed when she burst through the double doors and into the potions classroom. Stupid, foolish girl! Why didn't she ever listen? Didn't she realize that the note had been for her own safety?!?

_But then why are you here, waiting for her?_

Alkiema cursed his inner voice, his attention being drawn back to the girl's figure, and its attempts to navigate the darkness.

He watched her body's progress through the darkness, her form moving with a cautious grace that was intoxicating. Alkiema felt a growl resound deep within his chest. When she whipped around at the sudden noise, he felt a sudden pang of lust; he needed to conquer her agility, to hone her reflexes...

Alkiema grabbed his face with his hands, his fingernails digging deep and drawing blood. He prayed she would just give up and leave, that she would return to the safety of the common room, to Albus' inviting arms...

Yet Orion knew her better than that.

The teacher inside of him could have killed her when she pushed open the door to his private chambers. Yet the teacher in him was fading, fading, until all that was left was his desire. Orion fell to the ground on all fours as a sharp pain stabbed his side, and he clutched his chest. Hardened nails were protuding from his fingertips, and dense fur was beginning to spread across the tips of his arms. His senses increased; he could now she every shadow and crevice in the dark. And that wasn't all.

He could smell her.

He crept after her through the narrow corridor, crouched on all fours.

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Albus had just been to the common room, the library, and even the Great Hall; yet as usual, Hermione was no where to be found. Albus slowed to a stop in the corrdior, hand on chin, trying to decipher where she could have gotten off to. He was used to this; yet this was important! He needed to tell her something, and quickly, or he wouldn't get to! After all, he didn't want to leave without her!

The piece of parchment that had been sent to him at breakfast flashed briefly before his eyes.

_Dear Mr. Dumbledore,_

_We here at Wizards International (WI) congratulate you on being chosen as one of our new student ambassadors. As such, you will have the chance to study abroad in either Madrid, Venice, or Paris. _

_When you have made your decision, tap this parchment and say the name of your destination . A portkey will appear in 24 hours to take you to your destination. _

_We hope to see you soon,_

_Madame Bourree, WI department chair_

Albus clutched the piece of parchment tightly in his hand, excited for his opportunity but anxious about leaving Hermione. After all, she had been acting incredibly odd lately. She had seemed fine the other day, but as of late she had seemed incredibly... angry? No, anger was not the right word to describe the passion that had shone in her eyes... Albus felt his mind wandering as he remembered passing her in the hallway. Rather than pausing to greet him, as was her usual custom, she had flown past, _fiery determination_ bearing down on him. He had noticed wryly that she had also had a piece of parchment crumpled in her fist.

Albus frowned; she hadn't also received a message from the WI, had she? He shook his head; of course not. Selections were made carefully, and only after watching a potential ambassador for years.

No, it was something else.

Albus ran an agitated hand through his hair, wondering what he should do.

"Ow!"

Albus cursed softly as the ring on his hand was caught on a piece of hair.

Wait, the ring!

Albus had completely forgotten about it; and its ability to send one way messages. He could simply leave her a message, explaining his situation and that he had to leave almost immediately! When she received it, she would then come looking for him.

He couldn't believe he had thought of it before.

He gripped the ring gently between his index finger and thumb, putting pressure slightly onto the edges. He began to speak.

"Hermione, I have the greatest news..."

He spoke quickly and excitedly, expressing his anxiety over leaving her and his wish to see him before he left, should she receive this message in time. When he finished, he pressed once more on the sides of the ring, and it glowed briefly, the metal that touched his skin becoming comfortably warm. Then the light dimmed, the warmth faded, and it was once again a ring.

Albus straightened, feeling proud of his accomplishment. Now, he had to pack! He swiftly turned, and began to walk towards the Gryffindor tower. Once he arrived, he winked at the Fat Lady, gave her the password, and stepped inside to remarks of "Oho, _someone_ is happy today..."

When he reached his dormitory, he took a moment to happily flounce on his bed. Everything finally seemed to be going right! He was at the top of his year, he had a fantastic girlfriend, and he was one of four young Wizard Ambassadors! He was at the high point of his life! Now... the hard choice. Madrid? Paris? Oh, the decisions! If only--

**/Actually, I'd choose Venice if I were you/**

Albus jumped, whipping around to see the source of the voice.

**/I've been to the other places, and I must say, none can compare to Italy./**

Albus unsheathed his wand, and continued to turn in circles around in the dormitory. The voice wasn't speaking to him, so much as inside his head!

**/Stop twirling about like that, you look foolish!/** The voice paused.** /And if you must know, I'm outside of your window./**

Albus slowly turned towards the window, not noticing anything particulary threatening (or sentinent) outside. He opened it cautiously, and leaned outside slightly.

"AH!"

Albus ducked inside, hurridely covering his head with his hands in a pathetic attempt to shield himself. Some_thing_ had come barreling inside from around the corner.

**/So, twirling isn't the only thing that suits you, but cowering as well? I was right; you really _do _need assistance./**

Albus peeked through a crack in his fingers, and then threw his hands away in complete shock and awe.

A majestic, gorgeous phoenix was perched on his bedpost, plummage vibrant and head held high. The bird seemed amused by Albus' reaction, and cocked his head slightly, causing shades of red, orange, and gold to shimmer across his body.

**/Hello Albus; my name is Fawkes./**

Albus stepped forward slowly, and reached out a hand towards the bird. He was the most beautiful, the most graceful, the most heroic figure Albus had ever seen! It was almost like a novel--

"OW!"

Albus gave a loud yell and drew his bleeding fingers defensively back to his chest. The phoenix glared at him, wings ruffling threateningly.

**/I _am not_ an owl, or a pet, for that matter. An touching, let alone _petting_, comes when I say it does./**

Albus never knew it was possible for a bird to appear so haughty.

With a tap of his wand, the injury faded. Yet his irritation and curiousity still remained.

"Then what are you, Fawkes the phoenix?"

The bird regarded him seriously, before dipping his beak low in semblance of a bow.

**/Help./**

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Hermione paused on her journey through the corridor, pausing once more to wrap her arms tightly around her chest; it was freezing! She grabbed the edges of her cloak once more, even though she knew it was too thin to provide her warmth. The image of Alkiema's study, with a roaring fire and steaming mugs of apple cider brought a smile to her lips. Soon she would be there, and find the source of all of this... avoidance!

She continued her pace through the corridor, trying to not think about the darkness permeating the hall. It was made out of stone; her steps echoed loudly around her. She had made the mistake earlier of touching a hand to the walls; she had gasped to find it covered in slime and mold... Then again, she told herself not to be surprised. She _was_ in the dungeons, and perhaps the moistness was an effect of being near the lake?

Hermione wasn't an expert on Hogwarts geography, but wondered if there were perhaps an underground channel beneath Hogwarts.

"Hermione..."

Hermione stopped short, her breath catching in her throat. He she just...? No, of course not. There was no one in this hall except her; the ricochet of footsteps would alert her to someone else's presence.

Or so she thought.

"You have come to me..."

Hermione couldn't control her instincts, she whipped around.

"H-hello? Professor Alkiema?"

She felt another presence, but was frustrated at her inability to locate it.

"You seek me..."

Hermione gulped, starting to tremble slightly.

"Y-yes, Professor. I n-needed to s-speak with you about your note..."

She felt the air grow in humidity, and its presence began to wrap itself tighter around her.

"I told you not to come, didn't I... warned you, didn't I..."

Hermione cleared her throat; the air was getting oppressive.

"Y-yes, but you know that I would never just l-leave you.."

He was stalking her in circles, his eyes penetrating the dark like hers never could. The wolf in him loved the fear in her eyes... the vulnerability...

Hermione gasped as she felt a pair of hands land gently on her shoulders, then curl possessively up towards her neck. There was a breathy voice, whispering into her ear...

"Tell me what it is you seek, little one..."

Hermione felt her breath leave her, and her head began to feel light.

"I-I...wha--"

"Yes, tell me what you want..."

Hermione would reflect later on how she never once imagined that the figure behind her was evil; some criminal out to hurt her. She just knew... somehow... that he was--

"Conan..."

Alkiema felt his self-control begin to fray when she called to him, the human and wolf both recognizing the name. Her voice sounded low, pleading, almost...

He pulled her body close to his, one hand moving to grip her tightly around the waist. The other hand moved to caress her chocolate curls delicately. He felt almost drunk in his arousal, drunk with the sensation of their bodies so close, fitting together, molding into one...

It was at that moment, when Hermione ring glowed a fiery red, the sudden light burning in Alkiema's already sensitive vision. He shoved Hermione from him, who was shrieking from the sudden pain, and clawing at her hand. Alkiema fell back against the wall, his howl reverberating through the corridor as he covered his face to shield his eyes. He couldn't think, he couldn't see... all was pain... Hermione was still shrieking...

And then, nothing.

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Sorry for such the long wait, guys. College can be quite busy. But I promise that this story isn't dead! In fact, I'd like to know your opinions: where would you like to see this story go? I have ideas, but they are only that; ideas.

REVIEW:-D


	23. Chapter 23

Darkness, and the feeling of cotton in her mouth…

Such were the sensations Hermione felt as she slowly began to open her eyes. She put her hands down at her sides, and felt the plush couch that her body was lying on. Such luxury she had never felt in the dorms, only in—

"Yes, you are in my quarters."

Hermione's eyes darted to the figure of Alkiema, who was hunched over in a chair next to her, his eyes kind.

What the hell had happened?

"Orion, wha—"

"I found you in the corridor between here and the potions classroom."

He paused to clear his throat, and Hermione noticed that he refused to meet her eyes. Something was odd.

"I, er, that is, you must have slipped on something and were knocked unconscious…"

Hermione felt her head began to nod; after all, it seemed a likely conclusion... however...

She was walking down the corridor, dark, alone… a figure approaching her, wrapping his arms around her…

She blushed bright red, and immediately opened her mouth to contradict her potions professor, and friend.

But wait! He might not have any idea about what happened down there! If you told him about it, let alone accused him, he would think you're crazy! He would deny everything; look at what had happened after the potion's incident!

Hermione lowered her trembling hands, in an effort to still them. To her surprise, she noticed something.

On her finger was a large burn mark, where Albus' ring had once been. Now things didn't make sense at all.

"Orion, where is—"

"I removed it."

Hermione's jaw snapped shut at his abruptness. This man was acting unpredictable. One moment he was warm and inviting, the next indifferent. Why was he acting so odd?

"I mean, it's right here."

He gestured to the table beside Hermione, and she noticed with relief that it did indeed rest lightly on the edge of the wood.

He gestured to her hand.

"It seemed to have burned you, or given off some sort of magical signature. Perhaps that is what ailed you in the corridor?"

Hermione still didn't like the tone of his voice, but nodded quickly. Anything that would erase the memories of the figure in the corridor was welcome… yet Hermione found herself not wanting to let the memories go. The details were very fuzzy in her mind; she could only remember the sensations that had accompanied the encounter, and nothing about the figure itself. Oh, just by dreaming now, Hermione could almost feel him again! Such sensations, as she had never felt with Albus... His hands were calloused and possessive, yet gentle at the same time. His body had been pulsing with the thrill of danger, yet had felt warm and protective. And that voice…

"Hermione?"

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when she felt Alkiema gently touch her shoulder.

"What?"

Alkiema smiled.

"I've asked you the same question twice, now."

Hermione grinned sheepishly.

"I am sorry; my thoughts were wondering. Try again; you know what they say. Third time's the charm."

Alkiema nodded in understanding.

"I asked you, does your hand still hurt?"

Hermione glanced down at the burn mark; the flesh was swollen and red; and there was an angry imprint in the shape of the ring that snaked around her entire finger. It was sensitive to the touch, but nothing that wouldn't heal in a week or so.

"It seems fine now, thank you. I might have to put a glamour charm on it though…"

Alkiema wordlessly handed her her wand, and she raised it, performing the charm flawlessly and without thought. Then she was hit with a flash of remembrance.

"My wand wouldn't work!"

Alkiema looked taken aback by this sudden outburst.

"Excuse me?"

Hermione was shaking her head, her chocolate curls swishing side to side.

"That's why I was wandering about in the dark… my wand wouldn't work as soon as I got to your classroom! I wonder…"

She trailed off, lost in thought. If she would have looked up at Alkiema, she would have seen panic and horror in the potion professor's eyes.

"I…don't know why that would be," he offered lamely, his eyes glued to the floor. Then he glanced up, offering a smile. "But, I found you, and you are here now. The more pressing issue seems to be this blasted…ring."

Alkiema tried to keep his air light, but inside he was seething. Damn you, Dumbledore! He had known that Albus had given Hermione a ring, but he failed to realize the spells only someone like Albus would be likely to put on it. When he had fully embraced Hermione in the corridor, the damned thing had begun burning, wounding his eyes with its brightness, and burning into Hermione's flesh so as to cause her to scream.

_Why_ had he done something so _foolish_ as attempt to _seduce_ a _student_?!?!

Alkiema grit his teeth, his frustration and anger with himself almost too great to handle. He was torn between his desire to protect Hermione, to shield her tight inside the safety of the pack, and his need to kill Albus for doing something to harm her. Once again, he acknolwedge the need to learn to control the monster inside of him...

His anxiousness must have shown, because Hermione's gaze suddenly turned worried.

"Orion? Are you alright?"

He blinked, and focused his eyes on her.

"Yes... of course. Just angry that it seems as though a piece of _jewelry_ attacked you. Perhaps I should take it, and examine it for Dark Magic..."

Alkiema knew it was a lame excuse, but anything to get ahold of that ring, and keep it away from her!

Hermione's eyes grew wide as Alkiema reached to grab the ring, and she reached out with the other hand to stop him. Their hands both landed on the ring at the same time.

Alkiema's gaze was locked onto hers, and he felt the beast within beginning to stir. _Heavens above, not NOW..._

Yet just as quickly, it was quashed as Hermione's contact with the small piece of jewelry seemed to act as a sort of catalyst.

The ring began to glow slightly, and soon smoke began to sift out of it, curling upwards and out into a recognizable shape. Alkiema watched in fascination as ghostly silhouette of Albus was projected from the ring in front of Hermione. He began to speak, that all-knowing smile and twinkle severely starting to grind Alkiema's nerves.

A ring as a means of communication?

Alkiema was so mystified that he nearly forgot to pay attention to the message.

Hermione's jaw dropped as Albus' face seemed to materialize from the ring in front of her. It almost reminded her of muggle science-fiction hollograms, except smokier...

"_Hermione, I'll be leaving very soon to be a student ambassador for Wizards International. I'm very sorry I can't tell you this in person, or say a proper good-bye, but the institution demands that I make a quick choice. I hope you understand; this is such a prestigious honor! I cannot simply refuse or have them wait on me. If you receive this message soon, I may yet get to speak with you beforehand. If not, I will only be gone for a few months; it is simply the introduction period of the aboard session. (The next one is a full year, and will start next term!) I will write often, and I hope you will too. I will be thinking constantly of you, and of the next time my eyes have the pleasure of gazing upon you..._

_All my love,_

_-Albus_

After delivering its message, the phantom-Albus simply faded away until there was nothing left except a few wisps of the smokey haze. In the silence that followed, Alkiema and Hermione sat in a strange kind of stupor. Alkiema was the first to break it.

"Well... that was... certainly interesting."

Hermione furrowed her brow. Yes it was, in more ways than one. Why would Albus suddenly leave her without saying goodbye? And how could he possibly think that a ring-message would be a proper substitute? She won't be seeing him for months!

Hermione felt herself mainly angry at Albus and his decision to simply pick up and leave. Her gaze fell to the mangled flesh on her finger, and her lower lip began to tremble. Being... found in the corridor, Albus leaving her... it was suddenly all too much.

Silent tears began to snake down her cheeks, and Alkiema looked at her in alarm.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

He gently placed both of his hands on her shoulders, willing her to be comforted.

Hermione tried to hurridely wipe her tears, trying to wave Alkiema off.

"N-no, everything's f-fine. Just being s-silly..."

Alkiema refused to be put off, and instead seized her in a comical hug.

"That's alright then, be silly."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed despite himself.

The laughing subsided into quiet giggling, and Alkiema was delighted to see Hermione snorting in a very unlady-like manner. In fact, he didn't even know women were capable of such a feat!

She collected herself, and apologized profusely. Alkiema merely grinned

"Don't apologize! Goodness, I didn't even know women could _do_ that. If I knew that, maybe I would spend more of time talking to them. It always makes me feel inferior; women always proper and dressed up, ready to dismiss your presence if you do something that is socially unacceptable."

Hermione grinned sheepishly.

"And if women knew that all guys were such goofballs, we'd be more likely to act so ourselves!"

Alkiema released his grip on her, his brow furrowing in thought.

"What is so wrong about this?"

Hermione's expression mirrored his.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, us! A man, and a woman, just... enjoying each others' company."

Hermione nodded, relaxing her body against his. Alkiema was too surprised to remark, and felt his hands instinctively curl around her waist.

"I do really enjoy your company, Orion."

"Conan!"

Hermione cocked her head to the side.

"Beg pardon?"

"You always call me Orion, that's my middle name!"

Hermione giggled into his chest.

"But you told me you liked it better!"

He snorted.

"Only because I thought it sounded better... and I didn't want to associate anything with the werewolf in me. Since Conan is literally--"

"Wolf."

"Exactly. But now, I don't feel the need to impress anymore. I really feel like myself around you, Hermione. So call me who I am."

Hermione still looked a little bit bothered.

"You may be a werewolf, but you're not a wolf!"

"It's still a part of who I am."

Hermione nodded. Then she suddenly turned morose.

"I wish Albus wasn't being such a prick..."

Alkiema was confused.

"A wha...?"

Hermione grit her teeth. There was that future terminology again. Now, what would one of those characters in her Victorian books say?

"Er, sorry. Let me try again. I want to get this right..."

Alkiema waited patiently.

"I wish Albus wasn't being such a... knob!"

Hermione face lit up as Alkiema doubled over in laughter, clutching at his sides, his breath coming in great gasps.

"I... n-never thought... I'd h-hear a l-lady say that..."

He was laughing so hard, Hermione was sure that whole castle could hear him. She punched him playfully on the arm.

"Well, you just did!"

Alkiema sat up again, rubbing the tears of mirth from the corner of his eyes.

"Hermione Granger, such language is deplorable in this society, and I must chastise you for your behavior."

Hermione rose up on her knees, challenging his 'authority'.

"Oh yeah?"

"YES!"

With a mighty roar, he grabbed her around the waist again and began tickling her mercilessly. He put on a large grin as she shrieked with laughter, and they both toppled off the couch. Alkiema was incredibly relieved that he was able to make her smile, forget, and be happy.

Their momentum carried them off the couch and onto the floor, landing Alkiema lying on top of Hermione.

Neither of them moved a hair, and for a moment, there was nothing to hear except their ragged breathing.

As Alkiema lay there, he stared at the girl underneath him. Her face was flushed with excitement, her curls splayed behind her head in a pool of chocolate-brown. Her eyes, a darker, richer chocolate, stared deeply into his own. He reached into himself, ready to fight back the wolf within, but was suprised to find that it was dormant. Alkiema was completely in control of what he felt.

Gone was the primal lust, the carnal instinct to own and to dominate. He wanted only to care for the young girl in front of him, to watch over her, protect her...

Elation hit him like an epiphany.

He loved her.

Without hesitating, or pausing to think, he bent down until their lips were millimeters apart. Once there, he hovered. Then she came the rest of the way, eagerly anticipating what was to come.

When their lips touched, the sensation was electric. Alkiema felt himself groan at how sweet she tasted, and put his arms behind her back to support her as they moved into a sitting position. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he moved one hand to gently caress her face.

She was the first to break the kiss, and for a horrifying moment, Alkiema thought it was out of regret. Then he saw her smile, shy but present, hovering on the corners of her lips. He grasped her hands softly in his, but pulled away when Hermione hissed slightly in pain.

Alkiema cursed his forgetfulness as she tenderly rubbed the wound from Albus' ring. Then slowly, as if in a nightmare, Alkiema saw her eyes widen in horror. He could almost read the thoughts that were flying through her mind.

Her reached his arms out to her, his expression pleading.

She was already racing towards the door.

He didn't dare call out to her or try to stop her. He would not mess with her life more than he already had. After all, he loved her.

He sat down on the floor where she left him, tears of regret beginning to spill down his cheek.

_Well Conan_,_ it was just one stupid mistake after another. Keep up and you'll rush her straight into Albus' arms for good. But then again, it's probably for the best. After all, you are a wolf. No one could be made to love you._

Alkiema let out a animalistic wail, and didn't even resist the transformation that was taking over his body. He welcomed it; he cherished it. Tonight he would forget about Hermione; tonight he would be the wolf.

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Grindewald turned back towards his followers in the darkness. The glow from his wand threw into relief the shadows in the forest, and the hooded figures surrounding him.

"Did you bring them, Black?"

The ancester of Bellatrix Lestrange nodded, her face full of pride and determination. The family's maniac gleam was also present in her expression.

"Here!"

The small, unconscious form of a Hufflepuff first-year was dumped unceremoniously into the center of the circle. Grindewald curled his lip in disgust.

"_This_ was the best you could do?"

Black flushed, and immediately bristled at the remark.

"She was asking for it, damn mudblood! Always answering questions and correcting her betters; too bloody smart for her own good. She needs to learn her place!"

She kicked out at the girl's form, leaving a welt on the girl's cheek.

"That's for daring to tell ME about MY family history!"

Grindewald paused, reflecting.

"A mudblood? Well, this changes things. Not what I asked for, but perhaps useful none-the-less."

He turned to his followers.

"My friends, when was the last time you had fun at Hogwarts?"

The grumbles and complaints were too apparent.

Grindewald grinned wickedly.

"Tonight, my friends, begins our task of retribution against Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The mob gave one cried 'hurrah', before circling the body of the girl.

Grindewald lowered his hood, the moonlight catching the red gleam in his eyes as he pointed his wand at her small frame.

"Ennervate."

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A/N: Once again, thanks for reading. I'm trying my best to keep updating, so long as you guys enjoy it! I keep noticing plot discrepencies and things I'm neglecting, but that's a side effect of going long periods of time without writing. Another reason why I'm trying to stay frequent.

Review please!


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